


Constructing a Family

by Rizobact, Skylar_Matthews



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence, Multi, Relationship Discussions, Slow Burn, gestalt bonds, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:29:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 150,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6746707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rizobact/pseuds/Rizobact, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar_Matthews/pseuds/Skylar_Matthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is finally over and Cybertron is in a time of tentative peace as former soldiers attempt to settle back into civilian lives. Then Jazz starts receiving anonymous gifts at the bar where he works. Is it just an overzealous fan or is this the start of something far more complicated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Series of Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, a few things to know before you begin. This is set in the IDW comic verse but is AU from around Megatron's trial so the planet is relatively peaceful. We've got an expected amount of fanon but we tried to stick closely to the source material too so if you recognize a reference then it's probably intended.
> 
> On that note, our intended posting schedule is every other week while we finish writing. That said, enjoy. ^_^
> 
> ~Skylar

In the alleyway behind Blurr's bar, a large, lumbering figure attempted to sneak towards the door used by employees and performers. The attempt only succeeded because there was no one out to see him. Everyone was either in the bar, watching his target on stage, or they were at home. Soon he would be as well, but there was something important to do first.

Left by the door when the alley emptied only a few kliks later was a moderate sized box done up in paper with tiny music notes and a tag hanging off it. There was a single simple glyph on the tag: 'Jazz'.

It was just enough out of the way that the black and white Polyhexian missed hitting it with the door a short while later as he was heading out after a long, enjoyable night of performing with Skybyte. He saw it as soon as he stepped out into the alley and paused, running a cursory scan over it out of habit before kneeling down to get a closer look.

"Well now, what's this?" There was no trace of explosives, and something about it was reminiscent of..."Wow. Now there's something I ain't seen in a long time." It had been more vorn than Jazz cared to think about since he'd last gotten a gift from a fan.

"Wha'cha doing down there?" the mech's current partner in crime asked. If by ‘crime’ you meant ‘stage buddy’ anyway. For having been on opposite sides of the war, the two had hit it off quickly and well once music had come up.

The sharkformer came up closer behind his friend, curious. He'd stayed behind to chat with a fan of theirs for a bit after the show, but that mech had left now. "What's that you've got?"

"Don't know yet," Jazz replied, reaching out to pick up the wrapped package. It was a good weight for its size, and very neatly put together. He turned it in his hands carefully. "Someone took their time with this," he said as he admired the paper.

Standing, he turned to show Skybyte. "I'm thinkin' it's a present," he said. "Least, I hope that's what it is. Gonna have to open it to find out for sure." 

"Looks like it," Skybyte agreed. "You are gonna open it, right? I wanna see too." He leaned in even closer as Jazz inspected the box too. "Who's it from anyway? Or do ya not know?"

"'Course I'm gonna open it!" Jazz turned a grin on the sharkformer. "It doesn't say on the box who it's from, maybe it will inside." He hefted the box again, trying to judge its contents. "Feels like there's something liquid inside, actually."

He nodded back toward the bar. "Let's go grab a table. I want to be able to set this down and see it properly when it's unwrapped!" He paused, contemplating. "You think I should save the paper, or just tear it off? The little notes are kind of cute."

"They are cute," Skybyte agreed. "But I don't know of anything you could ever use it for." His optics moved from the gift to the blue visor on his friend's face. "Is that another one a' those Earth traditions you were talking about?"

Jazz laughed. "Yeah, I guess it is. Some humans unwrap presents carefully and save the paper to reuse or put in a scrapbook. Others make as big a mess as possible, claimin' that's the whole point." He gestured to the door. "Get that for me would you, mech? My hands are full!"

He followed Skybyte back inside, glancing back at the shadows of the alley one more time. If the mech who had left the package was still there, they were doing a good job of hiding. He continued, "Each side makes fun of the other and says their way is better, of course. I don't know that either way really is, but you make a good point. 'S not like I have any use for it." Jazz waited for the door to click shut behind them to head into the main area.

Blurr noticed them quickly. "I don't think you'll want to get back on stage. All your fans left and the regulars are going to be too overcharged soon to care." Then he saw Jazz was holding something and couldn't help his curiosity. "What's that?"

"One of those fans of mine seems to have left me something. This," Jazz said, commandeering the nearest table and setting the box down to gesture grandiosely at it, "makes it official. All my efforts here are paying off." He cocked his head at Blurr. "You wanna watch while I open it too?"

"Just don't let it cause any trouble for me." The racer-turned-bartender did gravitate a bit closer though, curious despite his cavalier attitude. He masked his interest behind cleaning up a couple nearby tables that were currently empty.

"C'mon Jazz," Skybyte prompted. "Open it already. Yer killing us with curiosity."

"If you insist." Flying in the face of his earlier admission that keeping the paper would be pointless, Jazz did not immediately set to dismembering the wrapping. His movements were precise and careful as he found the edges and pulled them free before lifting it away intact. 

Pretending to admire the pattern again, he examined both sides in detail. "It really is beautiful," he remarked, not needing to fake the impressed note in his voice. Still not finding any clues to the identity of the sender, he set it aside.

"Time for the main event!" Jazz let his hands hover just above the lid of the box. "Can I get a drum roll, anyone?"

Familiar with this reference, Skybtye leaned back enough to start the thundering beat on the table they were at. One of the less than fully functional patrons turned to look too but decided his high grade was more interesting and returned to that. Blurr hung close but not too close, so his interest wasn't too obvious.

Jazz bowed slightly, then finally lifted the top off the box and peered in. "Oh, wow!" He put the lid down and stared in amazement. "Is that what I think it is? Check it out, Blurr!"

The former racer couldn't help himself from joining the duo to get a look at the secret himself. After a peek into the box he had to agree. "That is a rare find. I wouldn't think any survived this long."

Reaching his hand into the box, Jazz pulled the bottle of heavy clarified aromatic high grade free of the cushioning material surrounding it and held it up to the light. It was still sealed, the liquid inside glowing a full, rich magenta. "I certainly never thought I'd see anything like this again. Not until we'd had a lot longer to rebuild and start producing real luxuries again, at any rate."

"Someone went to a lot of trouble to get that," Blurr agreed. "But why would they just give it away?"

"Somebody must really like you," Skybyte piped up. "Especially if they're a fan."

"It is a bit much for a regular gift from a fan," Jazz agreed. He placed the bottle on the table and began sifting through the box to see if there was anything else, but his search turned up nothing besides the padding. "Makes me wonder if it might not be something a little more serious, and that's got me awful curious since there's no way to tell who it's from." In truth it made him more than curious, it made him suspicious, though he kept that to himself.

"Unless someone's holding a grudge and that's actually some poison," Blurr suggested, voicing one of Jazz’s unspoken concerns. "Do me a favor and don't drink it until you get far away from here. Murder's no good for business."

"Your concern for your fellow Cybertronian is touching, mech," Jazz deadpanned. "I'll make sure my untimely demise doesn't inconvenience you or your establishment in any way." He checked the bottle again. "Doesn't look like the seal's been tampered with, but it'd be pretty dumb not to test the stuff before drinking any." Sighing dramatically, he grabbed the closest chair and sat down. "Why'd you have to go and point that out?"

"Well by all means, ignore reality all you want," Blurr shot back. "Just don't let it get in anyone else's way."

"Not judgin', mech," Jazz waved Blurr off. "We all deserve to be able to start livin' our lives again without more trouble." 

"I still think it has to be from a fan," Skybyte countered. "Why would someone wait so long just to leave something that maybe you'll find and maybe open and maybe drink? It seems like a lot of work to not be sure."

Jazz turned to Skybyte, smiling again. "It would be a pretty lame assassination attempt, wouldn't it? And way too embarrassin' after all I've survived to fall for, besides. Yup," he nodded, "I think you’re right. It’s gotta be a fan. Only question is, who'd go this far with an anonymous gift?"

"Maybe ya got an admirer?" It was the only idea that occurred to the sharkformer and he thought it sounded silly as he said it. But maybe it was crazy enough to be true? Playing more into the absurd factor, Skybyte added more. "Maybe one of our fans wanna get ta know ya a bit more personally…"

And there was Jazz’s other concern. His visor flickered minutely as he worked to decide how best to respond to that. "That...isn't completely outta the realm of possibility," he said at last. "I was assumin' it was a fan because they left it here right after our performance, but somethin' this fancy? This could've been a courtin' gift, before the war."

Jazz tapped the bottle with his finger pensively then glanced up at his partner. "I wasn't watchin' the crowd as well as I usually do earlier, I was gettin' really into the music tonight. Did you see anyone lookin' at me?"

"Sorry, didn' see anything weird," Skybyte lamented.

"There was nothing out of the ordinary." Blurr's observation was unexpected but not unwelcomed. If anyone would be watching the crowd it would be the bar's owner. "You had some enthralled former neutrals, a few ex-Cons who looked like they were worried you might dive off stage and attack them and several old Autobots who ran the gambit from interested to bored distaste. Nothing worth concerning myself or my staff over."

"Huh. That's not much to go off of, is it? Thanks, though." Jazz thought for a moment. "Guess the best I can do is take this home, make sure it's clean, and enjoy it! Then wait to see if this was a one-time thing or if they try leaving another gift. Maybe I can catch 'em in the act if they do," he said. "Would you both be willin' to keep an optic out for me around here, just in case?"

Both did agree, although it was begrudgingly in Blurr's case. The ex-racer also reminded Jazz that if it was indeed a courting gift then the other mech would have to reveal himself eventually. Then he officially removed himself from the conversation by physically moving to deal with a mess across the room.

Since it was already a late night for them, Jazz bid a good night to Skybyte as the sharkformer took his leave as well. Gathering up the box and paper, he headed out the back and started towards home, anxious to examine the bottle more thoroughly.

❧

The high grade had checked out - Jazz had made absolutely sure of it before he'd finally given in to temptation and tasted it. The small sip he'd indulged in before resealing the bottle had been absolutely divine and only served to drive home the certainty that this was no mere token of appreciation from a fan. This was a gift from a real admirer. He had stored the bottle to save for a special occasion, wondering as he did so if it was to be the first of many.

As it turned out, it was. More things continued to appear over the next several orns; some left at the back of the bar like the first, a couple left on tables inside Blurr's establishment, and even one left on the stage itself, which had irritated the blue racer to no end. All of them had been left carefully and secretly without a trace, and each additional gift had been either as extravagant as the first or tailored personally to him. Despite still being a little uneasy about the whole thing, Jazz did feel flattered and was beginning to enjoy the mystery right up until he came home to find a parcel on his doorstep waiting for him.

 _Flattered or not, there’s no way I'm lettin' some mech I don't know sneak around by my house,_ he thought, hiding in the shadows outside his building instead of going to the bar at his regular time. _I need to know who's doin' this if they went so far as figurin' out where I live._

The night was quiet and it was a couple joor later when anything finally moved. At the top of the block a fairly large figure started making its way down the street. The mech's gait was slow and steady so he certainly wasn't a bar patron coming home already overcharged so early in the night. He could have passed as a normal resident, if Jazz didn't know his neighbors already. 

The mech passed under one of the streetlights, revealing his colors: green against purple. There was a bare patch of slightly brighter color where a faction symbol had once adorned his armor. The mech's former affiliation was familiar even without it though, even if some had trouble telling the individuals apart.

There was nothing to indicate anything was amiss with his presence and he might even have been visiting a friend who lived nearby. However, once he reached the building Jazz was hiding beside, he looked around furtively as though searching for watchers before reaching into his subspace. He pulled out a moderately sized box, which looked small in his grip, and glanced around once more. Then he began a painstaking process of settling and resettling the box in various locations around Jazz's door before he seemed to finally find one he liked.

Straightening up, the mech glanced around a final time, still missing Jazz in his hiding place, before turning to leave.

 _That's Hook._ Jazz's thoughts whirled in his processor. _Hook! Of all the mechs I was thinkin' it might be, he wasn't even on the list!_ He stared as the green and purple crane carefully started back up the street the way he'd come. The plan had been to jump out and confront whoever showed up originally, but Jazz had been so surprised he hadn't been able to move right away.

_Better move it now, or he'll get away!_

Swinging down from his hiding place, Jazz let the sound of his feet hitting the ground alert the large construction mech to his presence without saying anything to announce himself. He was curious to see how he would react without asking any leading questions. _Not like I know what to say anyway,_ Jazz thought. _I'm still tryin' to figure it out!_

"Who's there?" The Constructicon scanned the street again at the fairly soft but unexpected sound. He didn't notice Jazz right away, prompting him to speak again. "Show yourself."

"Since you finally showed yourself? Sure," Jazz said smoothly, folding his arms across his chassis. He looked up at the big mech as he whirled to stare at him, trying to affect a cool demeanor even as a thought crossed his processor.

 _Maybe he's just the messenger,_ Jazz mused internally. _But Hook ain't the type to run someone else's errands. He’d just send one of the other four to do it, unless...are they in this together?_ He forced himself to wait for the other to speak rather than blurting out the question. He wasn't sure he was ready to face the idea of the whole Constructicon team sending him presents.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hook said after only a slight pause. He couldn't help the long, lingering glance as he noticed just who he was talking with. It could have passed for sizing up a challenger if not for the way his optics remained. "Don’t you know you shouldn't be creeping around in the dark?"

"Mech, I live here. Ain't that strange for me to be outside my own place," Jazz said, visor glowing in the low light as he caught the stare. "You, on the other hand, are a little out of place. What brings you this way on such a fine evening?" He tilted his head back, chin angling toward the package by his door. "Looks like you forgot something." 

"That's not mine," the Constructicon replied with barely a hitch in his tone. Hook was pretty sure there was no way he would actually get away with what he was saying but just maybe the gorgeous smaller mech wouldn't check and his next response would work. "I was just leaving it for someone who contracted it." 

"Oh? And would this contractor be the same mech who sent the package I found on my step the other night too then?" Jazz walked over to his door and bent down to pick up the box. It had looked small when Hook was holding it, but it took both of Jazz's hands to lift it. He turned it slowly to view it from each side, visibly inspecting it for what he knew he wouldn't find. Sure enough, just like all the others there was no label identifying the sender, just a tag with his own name. "He seems to have forgotten to leave a note again."

Rather than setting the box down again, Jazz shifted his grip so he could wrap his arms around it and hold it loosely against his frame. "Mind tellin' me who it is? It'd be nice to be able to finally send a thank you card."

A small thrill went through the construction mech's frame as the other picked up his present, and again when he didn't let go. Naturally though, Hook didn't allow it to show as he watched blankly. There were a few inquiries through the gestalt bond but he closed it off without explanation. There was no need to let himself get distracted by the rest of the team right now. In that light it made sense why their new leader rarely had the connection accessible. He was a busy mech and couldn't afford to be constantly distracted. Hook made a mental note to try explaining that to the others as he also tried to prepare an answer for Jazz.

"It's supposed to be a secret. Revealing clients isn't good for business."

"That's very professional of you to say," Jazz nodded amiably. "But I've been gettin' a bunch of these at work, too." He drummed his fingers against the box in emphasis. "Never any notes, 'cept the ones on the wrapping, and pretty fancy stuff, some of it."

He let his expression hardened and his tone went from casual to stern. "In my experience those kinds of gifts usually come with strings attached, and I don't like not knowin’ what those strings are or who's holdin' on at the other end. The mystery was fun at first, but we're past the point of playin'." His visor glinted dangerously. "Either you tell me who it is, or I'll go over your head to find out."

"I don't know how you intend to do that," Hook responded. “The war's over and no one really follows anyone's orders anymore."

There was no feasible way Jazz could find anyone to convince them, he and the rest of the team, to reveal themselves, much less their reasons. Or so Hook thought.

"Oh really?" Jazz smiled knowingly. "I bet I can think of someone I could ask that you and your crew listen to. And I'm not talking about a commanding officer like in the bad ol' days, though he's both commandin' and an officer." Not that Jazz had spoken much with Prowl since the end of the war; he wasn’t entirely sure whether Prowl would want to talk with him after all that had happened, but he would go to him if he had to.

He took a few steps forward, closing the distance between himself and the large Constructicon, craning his neck to look up at the glowing red visor.

"Lemme ask you again - who is this from?"

Right. Of course Jazz remembered about their new boss. Prowl had always held a favorable opinion of the spy at least, so Hook could trust the secret not to go any further. Probably. Still, it was awkward and embarrassing and he didn't want to have to be the one to share it.

"I left it," he answered carefully. "But it's not from me. I didn't even make this one..." _by myself,_ he didn't say, but Jazz picked up on his hesitation.

"This one?" Jazz said, seizing on the words. "But you did make at least one of the others." He relaxed his frame language somewhat. "I'm gonna take a shot in the dark and guess that either one of your gestalt mates made this one or you all helped then."

Despite his earlier worries, Jazz found himself hoping Hook would confirm his guess. The Constructicons had all seemed glad when the war ended, not eager to restart it. That was a big mark in their favor and made the prospect of figuring out why they were doing this and what they might be after a little less threatening.

Not less frustrating. The lot of them were as stubborn and recalcitrant as they came. Just less threatening.

"Don't be absurd," Hook replied. It was not an actual denial, however, and that may have been the biggest giveaway. "You can't prove who it was made by."

"I can make some educated guesses," Jazz said. "Now that I know what I'm lookin' for? I can see Mixmaster's handiwork in those treats from a few orns ago. And if it wasn't Scavenger that put together that photoharp sculpture, I'll hang up my bass at the bar and turn janitor. Mech's like a magpie the way he collects odds and ends like that was made of."

That had been part of what had been confounding Jazz before. As they'd continued to appear, the gifts had started becoming more and more varied. He hadn't been able to find a pattern that fit a single individual; in hindsight, it was obvious that was because it hadn’t been just one mech. It was nice to be able to match them up now, looking back.

Hook ran through Jazz’s guesses mentally. Other than not recognizing the Earthen creature, naturally everything the smaller mech said was accurate. Not that he actually expected anything less, but it would have been easier to be dealing with an idiot. Although, the situation that got him to this point meant that the team's attention would be focused on an idiot and Hook quickly revised that opinion. What it changed to, well, that was still pending.

"What do you want?" the former Decepticon asked in a tone that most certainly did not hold even the slightest bit of whining. Nope, none whatsoever. 

"I wanna know what you want," Jazz said calmly, picking up on the other's distress but still not completely sure what was causing it. "The war may be over, but we were on opposite sides and we hardly ever even saw each other, then or since. Why’re you all giving me gifts like this?" He glanced down at the box in his arms, then back up at Hook. "Or is it just the others, and you're really just runnin' the packages?"

The larger mech stalled for a while before ex-venting in an annoyed sigh. "You're not going to stop until you get answers, are you?" It was rhetorical however, as he didn't leave a chance for Jazz to respond before continuing. "We... well, mostly the others, but... we like you."

"You like me?" Jazz scrambled to parse the words. The way he'd said them sounded embarrassed but also...hopeful. "We - " he began, then thought better of it. _We ain't even friends_ was what he'd started to say, but while it would have been truthful it was also wasn’t very nice. They weren't friends because they'd been enemies. Maybe...that’s what they wanted? To be friends?

Jazz latched onto the idea. Maybe it was awkward for them to reach out to a former Autobot like Jazz. Perhaps that was what the gifts were for, trying to bridge that gap. 

"We ain't ever had a chance to be friends before," he finished, then smiled. "Mostly the others, huh? So what, that mean you don't wanna be friends too?"

"I... I do like you too," Hook mumbled. "I just don't go around making it so obvious..."

He wasn't sure if he was pleased or disappointed the other had taken it to mean just friendship. Now that the secret was out that they were giving him gifts, the rest of it may as well come to light too, but he really did not want to be the one to clarify. Let one of the others deal with that. 

"Haha, yeah, some of the others ain't always got the finest grip on the concept of subtlety," Jazz acknowledged. "One of those gifts was from you though, wasn't it? The metronome."

That had been the first non-consumable gift Jazz had received, actually, and he'd felt a little uncomfortable with Skybyte standing over his shoulder asking questions about it after opening it at the bar. There'd been something almost intimate about it - beautifully crafted, perfect down to the last tiny gear and weld, and minimally decorated; just enough to make it beautiful to look at while the design of the thing did the rest. It was far more personal than expensive energon or rare treats, and the thought, time, and effort it represented had left Jazz at a bit of a loss for words at the time.

He knew what he wanted to say now though. "Thank you," he said simply and honestly. "It's the best one I've ever had, a real marvel of engineering."

The Constructicon nervously shifted a little after that but he ended up standing a tiny bit straighter. "It seemed like something you might have use for and was a challenge to my own skills," he explained. There was just a hint of pride in the words. Whether for succeeding or for picking such a nice gift, or even a bit of both, it was impossible to tell.

"It's been great to have!" Jazz said. He shifted the box in his arms slightly. "So. Should I open this now? I'm curious to see what it is!" He looked around, trying to find a place he could set it down. "I feel a little silly just standin' here holding it."

"That is your choice," Hook replied. It wasn't likely he could force the smaller mech to do anything he didn't want to, even now after the war. He couldn't help the flush of pride at the comments about his gift though. Naturally his creations were amazing but it was nice to be properly recognized. Especially by this mech.

"Well then I choose to open it!" There was a segment of a half-height wall just behind Hook; Jazz stepped around him and placed the box on the edge. "That way you can tell everyone how much I liked it."

He unwrapped it carefully, figuring the perfectionist standing next to him would probably be bothered if he just tore into it. Folding it up neatly, Jazz tucked it into his subspace to deal with later before returning his attention to the box. Looking at it, he realized ‘box’ was a poor choice of words. It was more of a chest, the container itself a part of this gift, and he snuck a look at Hook behind his visor as he traced the pattern on the lid. Whatever he said, he must have contributed to this.

"I'm already impressed before I even finish openin' it."

Another flash of pride shot through Hook at the words but this was again kept hidden. That piece hadn't taken as much time as his previous, but it had taken just as much precision. Although it hadn't taken quite as much care and dedication as his portion of what was within.

"Well, don't stop now," Hook commented, trying not to show his interest overly much. "There is still more to it."

Jazz laughed. "I'm gettin' there!" He carefully undid the latch on the chest, gently disengaging the mechanism before raising the lid to see what was inside. He wasn’t prepared at all for what met his optics. "Oh..." he breathed softly, taking in the contents.

Set securely in a series of delicate brackets were five crystals. The arrangement was ingeniously balanced so that no one crystal was the focal point, yet all of them were highlighted. Still in its natural state, uncut but polished so the red faces gleamed almost purple in the reflected blue of Jazz’s visor, a perfectly symmetrical rhomboid in the upper left both contrasted and complimented the less clear, almost cloudy red crystal pyramid shot through with darker inclusions beside it. Next to that sat a bed of sulfurous looking rounded yellow protrusions covering the surface of what appeared to be concrete. The dark grays of the base matched some of the shades in the fourth lumpy, amorphous shape. Parts of its rounded forms shone metallic while one side had a dusting of an almost rusty oxidation, making the glassy black facets of the final piece in the circle look even cleaner by comparison.

Each one was distinct and unique, but the effect of all of them all together was somehow harmonious; a blending of disparate and potentially conflicting attributes combining into a complete display that went beyond the sum of its parts without obscuring the individual components. Much like the mechs it represented, Jazz realized. By themselves, each of the Constructicons had their own personalities and quirks, each recognizable to some degree within their combined form even as Devastator was its own entity.

This was more personal and symbolic than any of the other gifts, as thoughtful as some of those had been, and Jazz couldn’t help but feel there was something important about it that he was missing. Tearing his optics away after a long moment of stunned silence, he turned to Hook, doing his best to disguise his confusion as curiosity. “Where did you even find all of these?” Natural Cybertronian crystal was vanishingly rare after the ravages of war had decimated their planet, and specimens as large as these were extremely hard to come by.

"They were around," the larger mech answered simply.

At any given point for a while, at least one of the team had been outside the city, or under it, for an extended period. Hook had found his own towards the ruins of Altihex, but he hadn't questioned the others about theirs. Where they came from didn't matter, just that the various crystals came together in the end and where they went. He was absurdly proud of the final arrangement too. Finding the perfect balance between each of their selections had been delicate work in a completely different way from construction or surgeries, but the challenge had been worth it. Jazz's stunned reaction almost made up for getting caught, and certainly made his night. 

"They can't have been easy to find though," Jazz remarked, debating pressing him further but quickly giving it up as a bad idea. Hook didn't seem inclined to say much, and he didn't want to make himself look foolish by asking the wrong question. "Well, anyway, they're beautiful," he told him. "I'm going to have to think long and hard for a good place to put this."

 _And,_ he thought with some urgency, _I think I’m going to have to talk to Prowl about them after all._ He still couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this gift than he was seeing, something subtle, and if anyone would know the subtleties of crystal, it would be a Praxian.

"You do that," Hook commented, at a loss for anything better to say. "I...'ve got somewhere to be." 

With that he turned and transformed, driving off to try and escape the awkwardness of the entire night. Jazz was left alone on his doorstep with the crystals and his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the crystals - in the order described, the crystals are based on spessartine garnet for Hook (associated with creative energy and bringing order from chaos), red aventurine for Long Haul (because it promotes determination and perseverance while supposedly being calming, since he’s hard working but loves a good fight), ettringite for Mixmaster (because of its occurrence in mortar and cement), hematite for Scavenger (ironic association with boosting self esteem and confidence), and onyx for Bonecrusher (stamina and endurance and, again a bit ironically, self-control). I steered away from a purple/green color palette when looking for crystals to represent them because I felt that a bunch of green and purple stones would have been too obvious; the symbolism and having the colors go together was what really mattered. 
> 
> ~Rizo


	2. A Devastating Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unsure about the last gift he received, Jazz seeks out answers from an old friend. The results are not at all what he expected.

With the government and populace settling and the latter beginning to expand came concerns over public safety. Thus, those with any former training in public services were called upon to return to their pre-war professions. Medics, few of whom had left the profession, fire and rescue teams, law enforcement... All those with any training, formal or not, were returning to their previous jobs, and beginning to teach those skills to other interested parties as well.

Which was how Prowl found himself playing chief of the recently built Iaconian enforcer station house. With some of the highest qualifications among the remaining former enforcers, the role had fallen to him to organize, well, everything. As that naturally fell within his skill set, he had gradually become the one everyone turned to in order to keep everything in order, both within the station and without. He had been slowly refusing the requests to assist the government as he focused on the former however. It was his hope to eventually return completely to acting as an enforcer, even if his current rank was a fair bit higher than he'd had when he'd left pre-war.

This orn, as most, found him working on a stack of datapads in the chief’s office that he was still hesitant to call his. There had been no formal vote or appointment and he was willing to step down if another proved capable. None had yet though, so for now it was his job and 'his' office.

Jazz was aware that Prowl wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of it being his office, but he thought of it as such when he stopped by. Not that it really mattered what it was called. What was important was that Prowl could be reliably found there and there was a door that could be shut so they could talk in private.

Assuming Prowl had time to speak with him, anyway. The war might have been over, but the mech was still a workaholic.

He hadn’t called ahead, but Jazz hoped that he had a good enough hook from Hook (he smirked at the pun) to get Prowl’s attention. Holding the crystal chest under one arm, Jazz strolled up to the door and knocked on the frame with his free hand. 

“Hey Prowl! You got a minute? I’ve got a package of a rather suspicious nature I’d like to get an opinion on.”

The knock wasn't much of a surprise to Prowl; it seemed someone always wanted his attention. Even the request for his opinion wasn't unexpected, especially with the knocking on his door. It wasn't until he actually looked up at his visitor that he realized this wasn't just any standard interruption.

"Jazz." The designation was stated with open surprise but outward calm, even as his spark skipped a pulse. Though he'd casually kept tabs on the other, as he had on many old officers, they hadn't interacted much since the war's end. It was both pleasant and confusing to see him here now. "What can I help you with?"

Jazz smiled, almost shyly for him. He hadn't seen Prowl in a while, despite knowing exactly where to find him, since they'd taken different paths at the end of the war. Sometimes Jazz wondered if Prowl thought less of him for his decision to turn civilian rather than working quite as actively to rebuild their world, but other times he thought that Prowl understood his decision. Either way it kept them apart, and it was good to see the other black and white again.

"Got somethin' that's a bit out of my depth, that's all. Nothing serious, I just hoped you might have a minute to take a look?" He nodded to the chest he had under his arm, but hesitated to cross the threshold. "Is now a good time?"

"If it's too much for you I'm not sure I'll be much help," Prowl replied with a faint smile. His tone was lighter than it had been during wartime, but it was evident in his remark that he still held a high opinion of the other. "Come in and we'll see what we can come up with, all right?"

"Thanks, Prowl." Jazz stepped lightly into the office. "I don't know about ‘too much’ so much as ‘outside my area of expertise’. The cultural peculiarities of crystal ain't something I’ve got a whole lot of background in." 

He set the chest on the edge of Prowl's desk. "I've missed talking to you, you know," he tacked on impulsively. He had, too - not only because the two of them made a formidable team, but also because Prowl knew so many interesting things and had such a unique outlook on everything. The mech wouldn't likely describe himself as fun to talk to, but to Jazz, he was.

"Crystals?" Prowl repeated, questioningly. _I've missed you too_ , he thought but couldn't make the words form in his vocalizer. Instead he remained on the more casual topic. "As rare as they are now, how did you come to be dealing with any?"

"Thaaaat'd be the other reason I wanted to talk to you," Jazz said slowly. "But I don't want to bias you by sayin' too much before you take a look." He wasn't entirely sure what Prowl's relationship with the Constructicons was really like these days. They'd been unwillingly thrown together originally after all, and even though Prowl was more than willing afterward to take advantage of a resource like them, the circumstances of the whole mess had been traumatic for him. Jazz didn't want to bring that up right away and risk souring the conversation. Or worse, having Prowl shut him down entirely and ask him to leave.

 _I really wish I'd done better by him back then_ , Jazz thought sadly. But he couldn't change what was in the past. All he could do was try to be considerate now, and while he wanted an answer to what the Constructicons were up to, if he was being completely honest with himself? He'd rather leave empty-handed and just discuss crystals in general terms as long as it meant he got to talk to Prowl for as long as possible.

"Understandable," Prowl conceded. And really, it was. He might even have employed a similar strategy himself in Jazz's place. In the past he wouldn't have doubted that he'd eventually learn the whole story, but he wouldn't concern himself with that now. Maybe if this meeting went well there was a chance they'd get to spend more time together soon.

Prowl offered just the hint of a smile as he lightly teased the other. "Are you going to open it then? Or will I have to do so myself?"

"You mean you don't wanna inspect the box first?" Jazz teased back, his own smile widening in response to Prowl's. "Hang on, let me get the latch." He paused to turn the chest around to face Prowl before lifting the lid, peering over the top from behind it. "I present for your examination Exhibits A through E, an assortment of natural crystal."

"Oh."

The enforcer's smile slipped away as his spark seemed to collapse in on itself. His gaze remained transfixed on the arrangement. This... This wasn't right. It wasn't _fair_. But it wasn't his place to argue; he had no claim on his one time friend. Much to his dismay...

"They are exquisite," Prowl commented in as neutral a tone as he could manage. "But I didn't know you were seeing anyone..."

"Seeing anyone?" Jazz frowned. "Like, _seeing_ seeing someone? I'm not." He'd been afraid the gifts were edging past the realm of admiring tokens into the territory of what most mechs would consider courting gifts, but after learning who they were from he'd talked himself out of the idea. Prowl's reaction, what there was of one, had him worrying all over again.

"I've been gettin' a bunch of anonymous gifts lately," he explained partially, not bothering to hide his confusion. He did try to mask his unease, and forced his fingers to still when he caught himself nervously tapping them on the lid of the box. "This is just the most recent. I was tryin’ not to think too much of it, but this..." he trailed off, trying to get a read on Prowl's expression. "The crystals mean something, don't they?"

"Not the crystals themselves, exactly," Prowl managed. It _hurt_ to think about the situation but if he could detach it from the here and now, if he could just convince himself this was one of their many discussions on cultural differences like in the past, then just maybe he could survive it.

"They are traditionally a reflection of the mech preparing the gift. Often self-grown, a mech might nurture a crystal intended for such an arrangement for several vorn or longer. In the lower classes, the number of crystals is related to how many gave the gift. One mech would give one and a pair would give two. In the richer classes, more crystals were an indicator of wealth instead. I've never heard of five before however. Four was an extravagance from a single mech, and six was the same from a pair."

He had managed to slip into a semi-professional mode and now the situation was a puzzle. A painful one, but still a curiosity. "You said there were other gifts? Left anonymously is unusual but not unheard of. This one should have had a note of some sort or something to indicate who it was from, however. Was there anything else with it?"

“Nothing I was meant to find,” Jazz hedged. _Hook was planning on leaving this one anonymously too. I wonder if they were ever planning to tell me it was them if I hadn’t caught him at it?_

Jazz continued to list off the other things he had received. ”The first gift was a really fancy bottle of high grade – that was left at the bar, and so were the next several gifts. More engex, candies, a few assorted knickknacks; expensive ones, custom pieces. Not a one of ‘em with any kind of note or name attached.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Then they started turning up at my place as well as at work. Ran into the mech delivering this outside my door last night by accident.”

 _Well, perhaps not quite by accident, since I was lyin’ in wait to bust him_ , he thought, though he hesitated again to name the Constructicon outright. The crystals twinkled up from the box, oblivious to the turmoil they were causing.

"At least you do know who it is then."

A part of Prowl wanted to know, wanted to ask... But a much larger part couldn't stand the thought of finding out who he had lost his chance to. His spark constricted badly enough just thinking of asking his next question.

"Have you two decided on a date for the ceremony yet or is that in a future discussion?"

"Cere-what?" Jazz jerked away from the box as though it had burned him. "Oh no. No! Is that what this is?!" He swore as colorfully as the contents of the chest. "I knew it, I knew there had to be a catch! Slagging liar said they didn't want anything from me, said they just liked me and wanted to be friends!"

He turned a scathing look on the box before raising a somewhat desperate face to Prowl. "Please tell me there's a return policy on this!"

"I..." Prowl stalled, unsure how to respond. His wings flicked behind him, revealing several versions of nervousness. "You really didn't know this was a bonding request?"

"I thought maybe it was a formal _courting_ proposal at the most!" Jazz wailed, hiding his face behind his hands. His next words emerged somewhat muffled. "Primus, I never should have taken it."

He looked up again, expression hopeful. "Do you think maybe they didn't know what it meant either? I mean, they aren't Praxian, none of ‘em."

"' _None_ of them'?" Prowl questioned. It wasn't the most pressing point in the conversation but it was the least painful. "Just how many were involved?"

"Well, like you said..." There was no getting around it now, and really Jazz should have known it from the start. Still, he couldn't help it as his armor reflexively flattened a little bit against his protoform. "One crystal per mech, so five." He had to force the next words out, feeling unexpectedly embarrassed in addition to his concern over how Prowl would react. "It's from the Constructicons. Hook's the one that delivered it."

At first Prowl thought he'd heard wrong. Then he concluded that he was simply losing his mind. Even that was preferable to the logic errors that came from attempting to process such a statement as fact. In an effort to prevent his processor from locking up, he attempted to distract his thoughts, casting a glance around the room. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, his gaze fell on the crystals first and he quickly began an analysis.

That each was related most strongly to one mech was undeniable. While Hook's was an easy guess in the corner, each of the rest made sense after a few moments as well; the correct name and vague presence slowly filling his mind as he identified each one. Pushing that aside, Prowl tried to focus once more. It would explain why at least one of them had always been late every orn for the past metacycle...

Crash avoided, Prowl still had no real answers and ended up blurting out an awkward, "That is certainly unexpected."

Jazz had stood completely still, watching the impending crash build in Prowl. He knew him well enough to know his tells, and it was a relief when he saw that the crisis had passed and he could relax. "No kidding," he laughed, the sound a bit brittle, trying to settle his own rattled thoughts. "It about blew my mind when I caught the big guy sneaking around in the alley. I can't figure out what's gotten into their processors!"

He leaned forward over the desk toward Prowl, hoping to draw his optics away from the crystals. "So, what do you think? Why're the Constructicons givin' me somethin' like this?"

This time it was Prowl's turn to freeze, vents almost stalling entirely at how close Jazz had gotten. If he didn't know any better he might think it was flirting, but Jazz had always loved getting in everyone's personal space. His spark still pulsed wildly and he longed to be allowed to reach out and close the distance between them...

Then he realized that Jazz had asked another question and it took a moment to process his words before he could finally answer. Not that he had much of one. "I honestly would not know. I can, however, ask and attempt to find out for you?"

"I'd really appreciate that," Jazz said warmly. "Just, don't give 'em the idea that's something I'm interested in, okay?" _At least, not with them._ Jazz felt his faceplates flush at the unspoken thought and hoped Prowl wouldn't notice. They were so close though... why had he leaned over so far? He should pull back, but couldn’t bring himself to do so just yet.

"I'll strive to avoid that to the best of my ability," Prowl answered, his small smile slowly coming back. He couldn't help it though, even as his wings moved on their own in a slow flutter. At least that wasn't anything Jazz was too likely to notice. Or so he hoped.

"If they didn't know what it was, don't enlighten 'em,” Jazz pleaded. “I wish they'd just stuck to edibles, though they’ve already given me enough of those that I have more than I could possibly eat by myself." He shook his helm. “This is a whole lot more complicated.”

"Did you want me to give those," Prowl inclined his helm towards the box ever so slightly, "back for you, or would you prefer to find a time to do so yourself?" Again it wasn't the question he wanted to ask, but it was the easiest choice. Especially with Jazz so close. 

"The responsible thing would be to do it myself, though there's a big part of me that wants to take you up on that offer and let you handle it," Jazz said. He closed the box, letting the lid fall shut over the crystals before pushing it across the desk, decided. "I've got faith in your ability to handle the situation." 

He paused, wondering if he should make a different offer of his own. Their business now was technically concluded, but Jazz wasn't ready to leave; at least, not without making plans to meet again. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed talking with Prowl, and the Praxian seemed to be enjoying his company too, if the small movements of his doorwings were any indication. He wondered if Prowl was even aware he was doing it, or how cute it looked. 

"Would you like to help me get rid of some of the other things too?" The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of them and tumbled over each other almost too fast. Jazz mentally slapped himself before adding, more slowly, "I've got all those treats I could share, and a bottle of high grade that's just too nice to drink alone. If you like that sort of thing," he finished lamely and finally straightened, realizing that he wasn't sure whether or not Prowl indulged in such things. He wouldn’t have before, but now that the war was over perhaps he didn't hold himself to the same impossibly high standards of conduct as he had then.

As strange as it had been to have Jazz so close, his sudden absence was even stranger. Slower than he normally might have, Prowl reached out to accept the box, pulling it closer before moving it to a back corner of his desk for later. 

Already working on how to address the matter with the rest of his team, he had almost missed Jazz begin the new topic. "If you're calling it quality, then it must be exceptional. Are you certain you want to waste such on me?"

"It wouldn't be a waste." Jazz felt saddened to hear Prowl say that - did the mech not think himself worth a little pampering? Now he was glad he had gone ahead with his invitation. Prowl deserved better than he allowed himself and Jazz was suddenly looking forward to the chance to do something to take care of him. 

_Like you should have already been doing_ , the thought whispered, but he shook it off. That didn't matter; he was going to take care of him now.

"I don't know how late you're working, but I've got an early performance tonight. You could come over after?" he offered hopefully.

"My schedule is rather my own to make," Prowl commented with a hint of a smirk, the one that meant it was a joke and he was pretty sure whoever he was talking to should realize it. It was gone, faded to the barest traces of a real smile, before he continued speaking. "That should be acceptable.” 

Jazz flashed his own smirk back at him. "Yeah, but I know you - if there was work to do, you'd stay and do it." He didn't mean it as a criticism though. Jazz admired Prowl's dedication to his work and the sacrifices he made for it. It had saved them all countless times, though far too many of those occasions had gone thankless or unnoticed.

"Only if I had nothing better to do," Prowl retorted. "I have been able to find alternative uses for my time since everything has begun to calm down. Did you want me to arrive at your place of work or your residence? Because you'll want to inform me of the latter location."

Prowl's question had Jazz drawing up a bit short. _Does he really not know where I live?_ He had assumed automatically that he would already know, given the mech's characteristic attention to detail and the way he'd always kept track of him during the war. _I thought for sure he'd have it in a file somewhere. Guess I just don't rate that kind of attention anymore…_

It should have made him happy as a civilian not to have the enforcers keeping tabs on him. It didn't.

 _Never mind_ , Jazz told himself firmly. _He said he'd come over, that's what’s important!_ Hoping his smile hadn't faltered, he cued up a databurst with his address. He pinged it over as he continued lightly, "you can just come straight to my place and avoid the crowds. Unless you wanted to walk me home?"

The last question stalled Prowl’s thoughts for a moment. The offer was incredibly tempting, and it would be so easy to give in to something that fit his long time fantasies. But that was all the more reason he shouldn't. He couldn't deceive himself like that, and more importantly Jazz didn't deserve him taking accidental advantage of the situation and thinking it more than it was. Still, it was a nice offer...

"The choice is yours," he found himself saying. "I wouldn't want to be in your way."

Opening the information Jazz sent, he found it matched the last known address he had. Either that was a good thing and a sign that the other was adjusting well, or Jazz had a secret location he stayed at that he didn't trust Prowl with. The latter consideration stung a bit but he refused to show it. 

"That's a nice area of the city. I have yet to hear of any troubles in that neighborhood." Not that there were many problems anywhere but they did get the occasionally emergency comm.

“I like it there. So, when you said you’d found other ways to occupy your time, does that mean you got a hobby? You’ll have to tell me about that when you pick me up from work!” Jazz pounced on the opportunity. He’d left the option open expecting Prowl to decline, but since he hadn’t, Jazz wasn’t going to let it pass. “It’ll give us something to talk about on the way.”

 _Of course, that’s all the more reason for me head out now_ , Jazz thought. He kept a relatively neat place, but a quick tidy before he went in for his shift couldn’t hurt. “Should I let you get back to work to make sure you leave on time?” he teased, preparing to make his exit.

 _No, don’t go!_ Prowl’s spark declined before his processor had a chance to list the reasons it was best to let Jazz leave for now. As little as he wanted that, he did have a confirmed future meeting, and such a soon one at that! A quick check of the bar's schedule showed that to meet Jazz even after he was done would cut a couple extra joor out of his orn. There was work that needed to be done before he could indulge a little.

His entire thought process took place in a couple nanokliks and he didn't miss a beat in responding with a fake-stern, "finally you speak some sense. My work is important, you know." A smile at the end betrayed his humor though, along with a single, slow wing flick. 

“I know it is.” Despite the fact that Prowl had been speaking somewhat in jest, Jazz’s words came out earnest, and he allowed a fraction of the respect and admiration he felt towards the former tactician bleed into his field. “I always did.” 

He backed away from the desk, footsteps light and graceful as he crossed the room to pause at the entrance as he had when he’d arrived. “Later, Prowler!” he said, cheeky grin once again firmly in place. “I’ll see you tonight.”

"I'll see you later, Jazz," Prowl confirmed. And what a joy it was to be able to say such a thing!

Then Jazz danced out the door and was gone. It was such a typical Jazz exit, and oh so fitting for the mech that any worries he had over how Jazz was adjusting post-war essentially melted away. 

Prowl found himself still staring at the closed door with a smile across his face when his commline buzzed a few kliks later. The mech on the other end and their issue were nonconsequential, other than serving to draw his attention back to his work. He did not have the time to waste thinking about Jazz if he intended to meet him that evening, and there was no way he was going to miss that.


	3. "Date" Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here is the eagerly awaited date that actually isn't. Also, good news: we'll be switching to weekly updates from here on out! Hope you enjoy it, and see you next week!

It was later than he had intended to leave when Prowl was finally able to tear himself away from his work. It would have been sooner but a comm had come in leaving him with a scheduling conflict to sort out that had to be handled before the morning. The solution hadn't been as pretty as he would have liked and involved covering an extra shift himself, but everything was resolved and he had gone without recharge for much longer so it was a success.

Except for the part where it delayed him getting to the bar a bit early. He had hoped to be able to watch a bit of Jazz's performance but now he would only be arriving just in time to catch him as he left. It wasn't ideal, but at least Jazz wouldn't know his failure.

When he did arrive, Prowl was suddenly hesitant. Jazz hadn't said specifically where to meet him and he didn't want to head inside if there was an alternate exit and potentially miss the other. Of course, if Jazz was waiting within and he didn't enter then he might think he'd been ignored. Pulling up a local map, Prowl ex-vented a soft sigh. The back alley was a dead end on one side so at least there was only one way a bot could go if they came out that way.

Plan decided after a klik of weighing options, Prowl settled himself to wait outside. His chosen spot was near the bar's entrance but out of the way, where he still had a clear view of the alley. Jazz would eventually need to come outside and one of them would have to notice the other.

Inside the bar, Jazz had been distracted and out of sorts leading up to their set. Skybyte had tried once or twice to ask him what was bothering him, but Jazz had brushed him off each time. He was too busy running through his preparations in his head – put away the worst of the clutter, check. Make sure he had two relatively nice, matching, unbroken glasses for the high grade – check.

He realized as the lights came up that he probably ought to have included ‘rehearse songs for performance’ and ‘stop thinking about Prowl’ on that list. His first few notes were a bit off tempo as he forced his processor to shift focus. The music was what mattered for the moment. Prowl would either come or he wouldn’t, and whatever preparations he’d managed would just have to suffice.

Lost in the performance, he almost missed when it ended. He was disappointed when a scan of the crowd didn’t turn up any signs of Prowl, and he told himself not to start panicking as he broke everything down and packed up. _Something could have happened at work. Or maybe he’s just waiting outside._

It was with that thought in mind that Jazz exited through the front of the bar when he was done instead of his usual exit out the back, waving goodbye to Blurr behind the counter as the door closed behind him. He stopped, looking around hopefully before his optics lit on Prowl and he smiled.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said, walking up to him. The weight of worry in his spark lifted. “You made it.”

"In time to walk you home, as requested," Prowl answered with a smile of his own. He refused to let his disappointment in himself show as he neared Jazz. Tonight was going to be nice, no matter his own prior poor timing. "Lead the way?" 

"This way," Jazz said, gesturing grandly at road before taking a few steps forward, waiting to make sure Prowl really was going to follow him. He tried to pace himself so he didn't wind up too close, but also not too far ahead. He floundered for a moment, not wanting to mess this up and trying to think of something to start a conversation before he remembered his earlier joking question. "So. I really am curious - what sort of hobbies do you have besides doing the work of at least three mechs in the office?"

Prowl allowed himself to chuckle at the last comment, mostly because it was a fairly accurate assessment. "I've not had much time to find many nor has anything held my attention long," he admitted. "The most recent is actually a number puzzle from Earth. You're given a grid sectioned off in unusual shapes that each have a number and the mathematical function required to reach that number. You may only use single digit numbers and each row and column can only have one occurrence of any given number. Most are exceedingly simple, but there are a few more engrossing ones as long as I don't apply my full processing power."

"Sounds like Sudoku, only more complicated," Jazz said, not recognizing the particular game but able to follow the description. "And it definitely sounds like you to play something like that! Earth games, hmm?" He searched his extensive cultural database from Earth for other games he thought might suit Prowl. "You ever try playing any of their strategy games like chess or Go? They're not as complicated as Cybertronian Hax, bein’ played in only two dimensions instead of three, but maybe they'd still provide a little bit of a challenge."

As they walked together down the street, Jazz wondered if anyone even had a functioning Hax set anymore. The hardware would be easy enough to build, if you were familiar with holoprojectors, but the software required to connect it to the game with a live feed was a little trickier. And the coding for the game itself would be a massive undertaking to rewrite, one that would require a master. He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of another part of their history possibly lost forever.

Shaking himself from such melancholy thoughts, he returned to the subject of Earth games. "I liked sneaking into the human networks to play against them sometimes," he admitted. "Some of the servers had some really good players."

"I don't know of Go, and I actually prefer Othello to chess,” was Prowl’s answer. “Humans may consider it a highly strategic game and there are numerous chess strategies, yes, but usually they can be distinguished between within a certain number of moves. There is almost no way to win without using a tried and true strategy and if you pick the wrong one then you may fall victim to your opponent before you even exit the preparation stage.” His voice picked up a little more enthusiasm as he moved on. “Othello plays on an open field and requires the capacity to operate in a more real time environment. Each move you attempt to claim as many enemy pieces as you can, converting them to your color when they're captured."

Prowl paused and hummed in thought. "It's probably something you would be exceptionally skilled at as well. The only true rule is you have to play a piece where it captures a minimum of one enemy piece, but the aim is to collect as many as possible each turn. Or to trick your opponent into moving where you can collect even more.”

He considered, then offered, "If you're interested, I could attempt to teach you sometime. We would need to have a board and pieces created but that's a fairly simple task." He hadn't meant to ask already for another meeting when they’d only just begun the evening, but it had happened and there was no taking it back now. Not that he wanted to do so anyway...

Fortunately Jazz didn’t mind in the slightest. "I'd like that!" he said, his steps lightening up at the prospect. He had to remind himself to keep walking instead of giving in to his enthusiasm and dancing as they moved along. Prowl already wanted to see him again after tonight! Maybe it wasn't a vain hope that they could repair their friendship. It felt as though they'd hardly spent any time apart at all right now, though the context of their conversation was completely different from what it used to consist of in the past.

Jazz found himself already looking forward to discussing strategies and techniques for the game instead of the life or death decisions they'd had to make during the war. Prowl always had fascinating insights and perspectives on things that just didn't occur to Jazz, and being able to enjoy a purely intellectual exchange with no strings or consequences attached sounded wonderful.

Besides that, he'd always loved listening to the mech's voice. Being able to relax and enjoy listening to him talk would be wonderful as well. "How about we do a trade? You teach me Othello and I'll teach you Go, and we can try them both. Go's pretty easy to set up too, and the idea is kinda similar to Othello except you're trying to capture territory rather than enemy pieces,” he explained. “You place stones on a grid of intersecting lines to create enclosed spaces while blocking your opponent from doing the same. Whoever controls over fifty percent of the board at the end wins."

"Interesting," Prowl mused. "It seems as though a solitary board might be able to be utilized for both if designed with the idea in mind. If you care to send me the specific dimensions, if there are any, and a basic guideline to the game I could look into having appropriate pieces created."

He didn't even notice he'd focused on having only one board created, meaning they would have to share. Even if he had, he might only have berated himself for being so presumptuous. Jazz was the only one he knew whom he would even consider playing against however, so if there ever were problems in the future he could simply leave him the board. Although his spark revolted at the idea of doing anything to lose the other now. They had been apart for what felt like an eternity but in actuality had to have only been several human years or decades. Perhaps it had been a vorn even, but that was still no time at all for their kind, so why did it feel like it had been forever?

 _No matter_ , Prowl thought as he tried to shake the temporary melancholy away. They were past that stage now and back to hopefully being friends and that was enough for now. That would _have_ to be enough for now. At least until he'd resolved the 'issue' with the Constructicons. And then there was the question of just how compatible they really were, especially now. Already bots were far different now than they had been during wartime. It did make him anxious, but he was also curious to see how Jazz might have changed. He'd noticed it would be in more subtle behaviors, and he wanted the chance to get to know all those little changes. 

“How many intersections are there on an Othello board?” Jazz asked, beginning his answer with a question. “Go can be played on different sized boards, but the standard is nineteen by nineteen with nine star points.” Jazz held up his hands to form a square in the air in front of him, though the gesture did nothing to illustrate the grid he described. The databurst he shot over simultaneously was much more informative, including the specs for several different versions of the game and a brief history of its development.

Jazz wasn’t sure how much interest Prowl would have in the cultural notes, but he sent them anyway. In the past Prowl hadn’t had the luxury to pay attention to anything that wasn’t tactically relevant, which made his already serious nature appear even more rigid. Without those constraints though, Jazz could already see signs that Prowl was more relaxed, and even brief hints of what almost looked like insecurity! He felt like he was finally getting to see a mech he’d only caught glimpses of before, and he liked what he saw so far.

 _Maybe he likes what he sees too_ , Jazz hoped. _I’m still working out who I am some days, and it’d be nice not having to do it alone…_

He rushed to start talking again, smothering the thought with the words. “Maybe we could do a reversible one that’s got one game on each side! Although, Go takes a lot of pieces – 180 stones each for black and white.” He laughed, dropping back enough to lightly tap Prowl’s white shoulder plating. “Black and white like us! Maybe it’s a sign.”

"A sign that humans lack creativity perhaps," Prowl mused playfully. "Othello pieces are black on one side and white on the other because they're flipped when captured. Even chess pieces are black and white as well."

“Haha, maybe you’re right! Although checkers are black and red,” Jazz pointed out.

"Hardly a strategic game," Prowl countered. "If black and white are comparable to our intellectual level, then perhaps the red is indicative of a game more befitting someone of Sideswipe's educational pursuits."

"Not necessarily," Jazz argued. "Sometimes ‘mindless’ games can be relaxin', and that serves a purpose even for mechs with more sophisticated tastes. I'm looking forward to playing something with a bit more of a challenge to it with you though."

"Perhaps it is for most, but I find it generally takes too much effort to disengage enough of my processor in order to partake in mindless endeavors for them to be overly enjoyable." It was a simple statement of fact rather than a complaint. The next statement held genuine praise though. "I'm looking forward to such as well, however. I know you'll be able to provide the sort of challenge I haven't faced in a while."

Prowl broke off to review the information Jazz had sent him. It was far more than he'd expected, even knowing the interest the other took in alien cultures. It was both shocking and a sweet gesture. His plan had been to send in the necessary information immediately so the board might even be started tonight, but now he could let that wait. Just one more thing to ask about.

"The volume of pieces might be an issue, but if you're willing to accept lesser quality materials for now then they can be upgraded in the future as more resources become available."

“I’m cool with that on the pieces. Trust me, lower quality material is not an issue as long as the stones are the right size and shape. I’ve played games with substitutes that weren’t even close to the pieces they were supposed to be.”

They were coming up on his place now, and Jazz considered what he had that they might be able to do just that with. He probably couldn’t cobble together anything workable for one of the more complex games, unfortunately, and given Prowl’s low opinion of checkers, he doubted it would be worth suggesting even if it was doable. He held the idea in reserve anyway, just in case. Maybe he would suggest it with some of the treats so they could eat any captured pieces!

"So long as the dimensions are included within the data you gave me then I can guarantee they will be made correctly," Prowl told him. That was one of the perks of having a perfectionist as part of the team.

One final turn brought them to the building. “Well, here we are! Home sweet home,” Jazz said. “You ready for the grand tour?”

Prowl smiled at Jazz's comment. His answer, though, was just a simple, "I am."

Jazz stepped up to the door to disengage the security. The lock on the exterior door wasn't exactly simple, but neither was it particularly cumbersome to open. Jazz knew without him saying a word that Prowl would disapprove of what appeared to be such lax precautions, but the key word was 'appeared'. The real security was inside, and Jazz figured Prowl would be able to spot most of it.

Not all of it, though, and there were one or two systems Jazz was really hoping he wouldn't notice. The war was over and Jazz knew it, but convincing millennia of paranoid Ops protocols that the neighbors _weren't_ going to try to kill you wasn't the work of a few years, and he still needed the more extreme measures to be able to enter full recharge.

The door beeped as the lock disengaged. "Come on in!"

The lack of security on the door was highly unexpected but Prowl took it to mean that Jazz was settling down well after the war...and then they stepped inside. _Perhaps he isn't quite as adjusted as he acts_ , he had to amend as he noticed several additional security features. Most were improvised, some possibly illegal, and a couple he was curious as to the function of, but he let his gaze pass casually over all of them. If anything deserved attention he would let Jazz bring it up. Jazz had probably noticed him noticing, but if he was the one to mention anything first there was a chance he would choose something he hadn't been expected to find.

"It's certainly very you," Prowl found himself commenting as he realized he had fallen silent. "Although I seem to recall you allowing a high volume of mess amidst your clutter in the past."

"Aw, you mean I coulda skipped cleanin' the place to make a good impression?" Jazz laughed. "Gimme a klik and I can mess it up again for you!" 

“You cleaned up just for me?" Prowl questioned, surprised both in general and by the nature of the gesture. "I was not expecting such, but it is appreciated," he continued with a slight smile.

Jazz smiled back and waited for Prowl to step fully into the main room from the alcove near the entryway before slipping behind him to shut the door and rearm the security. He was both surprised and grateful that Prowl hadn't mentioned the not quite civilian class stasis field that could be activated in that alcove; protective measures were one thing, but systems that could be weaponized like this - and the others like it by the other entrances - were frowned upon these days. Not having to justify them or try to defend them was a relief.

 _Maybe he understands why I need this without asking. He always did know me so well_... Jazz's laughing grin softened into a warm smile, and the fond expression was still on his face when he turned back around to look at Prowl standing there. He caught himself just staring for a moment before speaking again. "So. The grand tour, as promised." 

Walking up next to the Praxian, he gestured grandly at the open space they were standing in. While of a reasonable size and decorated with shelves containing various things and an entertainment unit set up around a display terminal on one wall, it didn’t have as much in the way of seating as Prowl was expecting. There was a table set up in the middle of the room with only a pair of comfortable but mismatched chairs, and the couch on one of the walls was small, not quite long enough for three mechs their size.

"I don't have company over all that much," Jazz explained. "I'm out and about so much I never really saw the point in settin' the place up for entertainin'. It's big enough for me, but not big enough that I could throw a real party, and anyway the noise'd bother the neighbors." That he had chosen this particular residence specifically to discourage anyone pressuring him to turn it into a public hangout went unsaid. "Sometimes it's nice to have a quiet place too, you know?"

"I didn't know you even could survive quiet," Prowl teased Jazz. It was very light though, in no need of any reminders that his work in the war had often been done in complete silence. 

“I get the odd craving for it once every vorn or so,” Jazz joked back.

He moved over to a room adjoining the main space separated by a half wall with a broad counter next. "I'm no kind of wizard in the kitchen, but here's the prep space. It's sort of underutilized, I feel like I'm not makin' the most of it!" There were personal touches here too, and despite his assertion there were signs that he did in fact use it. Fortunately it wasn’t obvious that one of those uses was occasionally testing energon for contaminants.

"Through there's storage, and this room's a spare I've been usin' as a music room of sorts." He slid the door aside and turned the light on, illuminating several instruments and a workbench at the back. "Kinda doubles as a workspace. I'm tryin' to repair an old synthesizer I found and rebuild a few other things I remember playin' but can't find anywhere anymore. It's slow going with some of the parts I need bein’ hard to find and all, but I enjoy working on ‘em. And that's pretty much it," he said, "since I'm not going to be so forward as to invite you to my berth on a first date." Jazz winked the light of his visor, waiting to see Prowl’s reaction.

The Praxian had planned to remark on how recreating obscure lost instruments was exactly the sort of absurd thing Jazz would attempt, as well as to state his certainty that he if anyone could manage such a task, it would be him, but then Jazz made his last comment and his processor stalled. Unbidden, that comment hijacked all thought processes with ideas he had never allowed himself to consider. First because there had been no time, and then due to the distance between them. Now, however, there was opportunity and it took an immense effort for Prowl to reroute his processor threads back to more appropriate thoughts. No matter how appealing the ideas were, he knew better. Much of Jazz's intimate 'reputation' was skillful fabrication, carefully applied innuendo and elaborate flirtation to the point that for all it sounded like he'd been with everyone, he might not have picked even one interface partner throughout the war. Taking the words at face value was sure to be a grave insult to the one mech he very much wanted back in his life.

Unfortunately, the delay left Prowl standing there blankly as he struggled to find something fitting to say in response.

Jazz had expected his words to derail Prowl for a moment, but as that moment drew out longer and longer he wondered if he’d gone too far. “Prowl? You still with me?” Internally he berated himself for making the innuendo in the first place. It had been out of his mouth before he’d thought it all the way through, joking easily out of conversational habit and forgetting to censor himself as he normally did around mechs who didn’t appreciate it.

Prowl had always fallen into that category in the past. Normally Jazz wouldn’t have been so forward as to joke like that with him, but he’d seemed so much more relaxed (for Prowl) than he had ever known him to be, and there was a part of him that wondered if just maybe he’d respond positively to it. Jazz hadn’t gone beyond jokes with anyone in longer than he would _ever_ admit to readily; interfacing made a mech vulnerable. But Prowl…Prowl was safe. 

He was also, seemingly, broken. Jazz couldn’t even tell if he’d offended him, there was no reaction at all to go on and it was scaring him a little. “Come on, say something – I’m sorry, I won’t say things like that if it bothers you.” _I’ll just be quietly disappointed you weren’t interested_ , he added mentally.

"It's alright..." Prowl began slowly as he brought a hand up to rub beneath his chevron. His own thoughts had caused a minor helmache. Certainly not the first time but that didn't make it any less unpleasant. "It wasn't that it bothered me exactly, and you are not at fault for my actions or reactions in any case. I just," _really would like that…_ his processor supplied but he dumped that response and forced out something more neutral resulting in ending with, "simply was not expecting that."

"I'm still sorry, especially since it looks like I gave you a processor ache," Jazz said, sounding genuinely upset. "Is there anything I can do to help? Besides, you know, shutting up?" he joked self-deprecatingly.

"It's not so bad," Prowl countered, hating that he had resulted in Jazz taking such a hurt tone. "I've caused worse pain for myself in the past. You're helping just by distracting me."

Jazz's expression lightened somewhat, though he still looked concerned. "Distracting I can do. I'm told I'm all kinds of distracting." Too bad he didn't seem to be the kind of distracting to Prowl that Prowl was to him. Jazz tried to shake off his disappointment. "Well, how 'bout you pick a chair and let me be a good host and bring over some refreshments? I meant it when I said I had a lot of treats to choose from." He turned and stepped into the kitchen. "You got a favorite flavor?"

"Surprising as it may be, I quite enjoy almost anything acidic." As he spoke, Prowl moved over to temporarily claim one of the chairs. "It was not a common taste profile before the war however, so I don't expect you would have anything fitting. It has been so long since I last had any treats at all though, so I would be willing to try anything you have to offer."

"Oh, I'm sure there's acidic in here somewhere. I get the feeling the Constructicons didn't know what flavor profile I prefer and decided to throw in a little bit of everything just to be on the safe side." Jazz pulled a tray down from one of the shelves and lifted a box out from beneath the counter. Prowl hadn't looked behind it earlier, so he was unaware that it was just one of several stacked there.

The container the treats had come in was arranged in neat, orderly sections by type, though the assorted gels, hard candies and semi-solid goodies were of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Some looked almost too pretty to eat, but there was no point in saving them - Jazz knew some of them wouldn't keep. The compounds would break down over time in slow chemical reactions, most only losing consistency and flavor as they dissolved, though there were one or two that would turn so acidic they would begin to eat through the container without the (protective) decorative liners.

Jazz lifted out the sections and placed them on the tray, turning it as he picked it up so the more acidic ones would be closer to Prowl. "Actually, that works out perfect. The ones I like best are sweet." He walked up to the table and put down the tray, snagging the other chair and pulling it over to drop into it. "Take your pick!"

"I don't think I even knew that," Prowl commented absently as he reached for a treat at random. He wound up with something in light colors that felt like a jelly but had a hard inside housing a dollop of stinging flavor. It wasn't anything he knew from before the war, and thus he didn't have a name for it, but it was _good_. Talking to his team suddenly gained one more item to discuss and he made sure to memorize as many details as he could about that treat. A few others ended up on that list as he sampled others, including a strange earthy one and a mixed sweet and acidic treat. Both of those tastes were strange but surprisingly good.

"So other than your favorite treats, what else is there that I don't know about you?" Prowl asked. It was meant as a playful, teasing continuation of his own previous comment and the conversation but just the thought made him sad. Not enough to leak into his field, but it still stung in his spark. There probably was a lot he didn't really know about Jazz, and while it only made sense, it also reminded him of the immense chasm that lay between them.

"Well," Jazz said slowly, his hand hovering over the tray indecisively as he debated whether to take the sweet silica-laced gel he knew he enjoyed or to save it and try the hard crystalline rosette with silver dust beside it. "You probably already know more than you think. I wouldn't want to bore you with stuff you coulda told me about myself!" He picked up the rosette and regarded it critically before licking at the powdery coating with the tip of his glossa. "Although," he said, lowering it for a moment, "I've discovered a few things recently that even I didn't know."

He waved his free hand expansively. "Take this place, for example. I never thought I'd have something like this all to myself, and you know something?" He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Turns out I like takin' care of the place. Not cleanin'," he clarified, "but, you know, all the little repairs and upgrades - putting up shelves, arrangin' furniture, that kinda thing. Makin' it feel like a home instead of just another safe house..." he trailed off, realizing how depressing that had come out sounding.

"I don't enjoy cleaning much either, hence my lack of mess making tendencies." Prowl spoke when Jazz left off, subconsciously catching the other's thoughts and trying to lighten the mood. "It's not a task I hate however, and there is a calming effect in creating order from chaos so on occasion I even use it to relax."

"It is easier to keep things clean when you don't make a mess in the first place," Jazz agreed, taking a bite of the treat in his hand. "Mmm! Oopth!" He’d tried to bite it neatly in half, but inside the crunchy exterior was a liquid center he hadn't expected. It burst in his mouth and ran down his fingers as he quickly swallowed the rest of the treat and licked at the syrup to try to keep it from making a bigger mess than it already was.

"Heheh, case in point! Apparently I can't eat energon goodies like a civilized mech," he laughed. "Lemme get a rag or something. You need one?"

Jazz's laughter was infectious and Prowl was quickly chuckling too. "No, I believe I'm fine. After all, you did call yourself uncivilized as the reason for needing one."

“Hey, napkins are civilized!” Jazz protested as he grabbed a cloth in the prep area and wiped down his sticky fingers. "There, all clean," he said, waving them at Prowl over the counter. "Sometimes it's nice to just relax and not deal with everything right away though, you know?" He ceremoniously dumped the soiled cloth on the clear countertop. "Now see, if you weren't here, that'd just sit there for an orn or two." He looked down at it appraisingly. "Or three. Wouldn't bother me." He glanced back up at Prowl, smirking at the slight twitch in the mech's doorwings which could have been laughter, annoyance, or a mixture of both. "Buuuut I bet if I leave it and come back over there, you'll be fightin' not to get up and take care of it."

"Your home, your mess," Prowl countered. "Even if it did bother me, which I am not admitting to, it is not my place to make any adjustments without your expressed permission." A small smile intentionally betrayed that his words were spoken to tease, not berate. "And as I don't live here, it is only your view that will be disturbed by such an atrocity."

"Nah, I'll just turn my chair so I can't see it." Jazz chuckled, then picked the cloth back up and stowed it beneath the counter anyway and shrugged. "It'd bother me knowing it was bothering you," he said simply. "And I care about you - about you being comfortable!" he amended hastily, unable to fully meet Prowl's optics as the admission slipped out. _Wow, I'm saying things like that and haven't even had any of the high grade yet!_ Jazz turned to grab the bottle as a cover for his embarrassment. _Maybe I should start; can't hardly get any more awkward than I'm bein' already._

"It really wasn't that much of a bother," Prowl offered uselessly. Even though Jazz turned as he was speaking, the Praxian continued anyway. "You were right that I do know some of your tendencies and so I could account for a variable of disorder in your own personal space."

It was only then that it really hit him that he was in a space Jazz might not have allowed anyone to enter before now. By his own admission he hadn't had many previous visitors and that could mean as few as none. Given the security precautions, it was even more unlikely he'd invited anyone in. Lacking context though, Prowl didn't know what he was to do with this information. It could be special or it could mean absolutely nothing...though he secretly hoped for the former.

Jazz turned back around and brought the bottle of high grade and two glasses with him as he returned to the table. "Thanks Prowl. I’m glad to know I won't scare you off by bein' myself." He remained standing to open the bottle and pour out a small amount in each glass, passing one to Prowl before sitting down. "And it's nice to finally get a chance to _be_ myself, after so many vorn wearing so many masks."

"Given everything I know you've done and the things I merely have to extrapolate, it's ridiculous to be driven away by a slight bit of clutter."

It was supposed to be something of a joke but Prowl could tell how bad it was and thus took a sip of the high grade to cover his failure. He wasn't expecting it to be as light as it was, and there was a hint of flavor that almost seemed to be the rare delicacy of energy drawn from an impressive solar flare. Such a thing had always been exotic before the war due to the planet lacking its own sun, and thus that particular flavor had to be shipped in from off-planet.

"I hadn't expected it would be such a rare mix. And the quality is amazing," he commented.

"I know, right? I wasn't either!" Jazz raised his glass as well and stared at the vibrant liquid for a moment. "This was the first thing they gave me, left anonymously by the back door of the bar. I thought it was from a fan. That's what I thought all the gifts were at first, until there started bein' too many and all too nice for somethin' like that."

He took a sip from his glass. It was as good as he remembered it being when he had tested it. "It's almost too much, really. Which is why I feel better sharin' it instead of hoarding it all for myself. So, you like it?"

"It is quite delectable." Prowl’s sensor wings fluttered slightly behind him as he took another drink and contemplated his wording to continue. "I am grateful you decided I was one you wanted to share this treat with. I'm certain there are countless others you could have chosen."

Jazz hesitated for a moment, considering how much to say. "That's probably true," he said. "I could have asked a lot of mechs and any one of them would have said yes." He took a larger swig, almost emptying his glass. "There was only one mech I wanted to ask though, and I wasn't sure of his response when I extended the invitation. It made me really happy when he accepted." 

The heat he was feeling in his face could have been from the high grade, the confession, or both. Jazz wasn't sure. He nervously reached out and snagged one of the goodies from the tray and popped it into his mouth whole without looking at it. It was much more astringent than he usually cared for, and he coughed briefly as he swallowed it.

Unsure how to take Jazz's commentary because his perception was clouded by what he wanted to hear, Prowl took a long, slow drink from his glass. Forcing his thoughts to focus on the substance entering his tank had a calming effect but before he could reanalyze the complicated statement, Jazz made his minor distress known and all other thoughts fled his processor once again as concern for the other became predominant.

"Are you alright?"

Jazz meant to say he was fine, but the vibration of his vocalizer as he started to speak triggered a second, longer coughing fit. He pushed back from the table so he wouldn't knock anything over as he got himself under control.

"Surprised me, that's all," he managed to gasp out as the coughing subsided. "I'm okay. I just can't eat energon goodies like a civilized mech, remember?"

Concern permeated Prowl’s field as he watched Jazz’s minor suffering. There was nothing he could do to assist though so he simply sat by watching on. "I do remember," Prowl replied in a soft tone. "You really should be careful though; can't have your legacy ending because of something so ridiculous as an engeron goodie after all."

"It'd be a pretty embarrassin' way to go," Jazz agreed. "Though I think I'd be laughing in the Well at the looks on some of the ex-Con's faces when they found out, after all the ways they tried to kill me during the War, that I got taken out tryin' to eat a piece of candy." He was laughing now in fact, instead of coughing, and he grinned at Prowl. "Glad you think my exploits rate bein' called a legacy, rather than a string of disasters. Cuz sometimes, that's what it felt like."

"And to think," Prowl commented. "It was only the Constructicons attempting to be friendly that would have lead to your untimely demise. All the more insulting to those who tried offlining you."

“No kidding.” Jazz pulled back up to the table and poured another measure of the high grade into his glass. He sipped slowly to avoid any other mishaps and to really savor the taste. "Anyway, I'd like to leave that legacy behind. Just need to find a way to do it without dyin'."

"Just what sort of legacy are you hoping to leave then? There are many variations and presently our kind don't even have a half-way decent one collectively."

"That's one of the things I'd like to help change," Jazz said, warming quickly to the topic. "A personal legacy would be nice, but I'm pretty in the habit now of doin' things so my part in 'em is invisible, and it doesn't bother me. Mighta done so a long time ago, but I'm not that mech anymore."

He gestured back at the workroom where the instruments were resting, mid-repair. "That's what I want to leave behind. I wanna bring back as much music as I can, to build a culture besides war that others can think of when they think ‘Cybertronian’. Something positive that brings us together instead of tearin' us apart." The smile he turned on Prowl was passionate. "Music is a powerful thing, and a beautiful one. Not even millions of years of war could destroy my love of it, and now I can finally share it again."

"That is an extravagant goal," Prowl noted in between sips. "Especially for a single individual. But if anyone could manage, it would be you. You've always been amazing."

"Well, I know it'll take time. A legacy like that won't be built overnight, nor the damage we've done to our collective reputation overcome so quickly. But I think it's worth pursuing, at least." Jazz paused as Prowl's words sank in. He hoped he hadn't misheard, that his audials weren't malfunctioning from the high grade. He didn’t think he’d had enough for that yet! "You really mean that? What you said, that you think I can do it, I mean. You really think I'm amazing?"

"I know you can," Prowl agreed as his own words processed. He stumbled once he noticed what had actually come from his vocalizer, "and of cour-... I mean, that's not... That wasn't what I meant... Not that it's not true! Just... I think I should stop now." He ducked his helm, wings fluttering erratically on his back to proclaim his embarrassment.

Jazz felt a warmth rush through him that had nothing to do with what he'd been drinking. _He did mean it!_ he thought, amazed. _Oh, please let that embarrassment be because he thinks I'm amazing as a mech, not just amazing at my job!_

"No, don't," he said gently. Fear of frightening Prowl off warred with the fear of missing what he desperately hoped was a chance. "You can keep talking. Please keep talking," he begged, hands pressed hard to the tabletop to resist the urge to reach out and soothe those wings. "...if you do, maybe I can say something too," he almost didn’t say, hope catching in his vocalizer.

"No..." Prowl argued after a moment. He might have missed Jazz's words almost entirely for the attention he bid to most of them. His gaze shifted to his empty glass. "I really do think it's best I don't..." His words were steady but slow and even his wings shifted, flaring out slightly as their previous motions diminished to be non-existent. "I think... I may have forgotten to refuel..."

"You what?! Oh, Prowler," Jazz sighed, concern immediately springing to the front of his processor. He stood and walked around the table to reach out and steady his friend, worried he would fall off the chair. "Maybe we should move to the couch, hmm? And I can bring you the cube you should have had joors ago?" He chuckled. "Some things never change, do they?"

He grabbed one of the goodies off the tray and held it out to Prowl. "Here, start with another one of these - it's denser so it's got a higher energy content. Plus, I'm pretty sure those flakes on top are so bitter I couldn't stand it, so eat it and get rid of it for me, would you?"

"I had planned to get a cube after work so I stayed through my break to finish everything I could," Prowl shared as he stared at the treat. Finally Jazz's intention processed and he accepted it and then put it into his mouth. It had a nice bite to it and his wings flicked up in surprise, which would have made him grateful for Jazz's help keeping him steady if he had noticed it.

Managing to recall his topic of discussion, he fell back to that after swallowing the goodie. "'Was going to stop by the bar earlier and have something there, but something came up and I had to stay late."

"Aw, you mean you were actually plannin' on watchin' some of my performance?" Hearing that, Jazz was really sorry Prowl hadn't been able to come earlier, and not just because he'd missed refuelling. "I wish you'd been able to make it," he said, not sure Prowl would pick up on his true regret on that score through his swiftly fogging processor.

"How 'bout next time you try to remember to warn me though, yeah? High grade is not what you should be drinkin' on an empty tank. Come on," he tugged on Prowl's arm to get him to his feet long enough to navigate over to the couch with its padded back and arms that he could lean against without falling off. "You get settled, I'll fix something."

Prowl hummed his acceptance as he let Jazz lead him to the couch and help him settle onto it. Which part it was in response to though, that was anyone's guess.

Once Jazz left, Prowl shuffled around some to get comfortable. The back was a little too high for his wings to rest comfortably and it was odd treating the armrest as the couch back but he listed sideways if he had no support sitting. Eventually he managed to end up laying down, facing inward so his sensor wings had space even though they mostly hung off the end of the couch.

 _Note to self_ , Jazz thought, busying himself again in the kitchen. _Prowl still does a lousy job takin' care of himself. Maybe I should start callin' him at work to check on him_. He drew a cube of regular energon and searched for something he could add to at least make it a little more interesting. Most of the additives he had were sweet, but there was one acidic one he'd brought home as part of a lot by mistake.

 _If Prowl likes it, he can take it with him_ , he decided. The container was all but full, since Jazz had never used it after discovering what it was. He left it on the counter to remind him as he brought the cube over to the couch and the lounging Praxian.

"You comfortable like that?" he asked. _Other note to self - get a couch that accommodates doorwings._ Assuming, of course, that Prowl would want to come back. He hoped he still would after this. He pulled over his chair to sit in front of Prowl. "Here - flavored, but not intoxicating."

"I've had better," Prowl admitted as he pushed himself back upright. He was no more off balance than before but it was still a bit of a struggle. "But it's nowhere near as bad as the accommodations during the war and even my desk is far worse."

He was cautious in taking the energon, paying extra attention so he didn't drop it and waste Jazz's effort and supply. A careful sip was all he allowed himself at first but he quickly followed that with a larger swallow, wings fluttering slightly against the back of the couch.

"You should get yourself a better desk then," Jazz admonished. "No reason now to be uncomfortable if you don't have to be. I know I've sunk a fair amount into a few comforts, now that I'm able to indulge, and you're allowed to do the same!" 

"I meant as a location for recharge," Prowl responded. "It is quite suitable for my work otherwise."

“Prowl,” Jazz deadpanned, “You should not be recharging at your desk. That’s another necessity that isn’t anymore.” 

"I don't plan to do so," Prowl countered, "but some nights it is a necessary evil."

Jazz didn’t comment further at that point. Instead, he glanced at the space next to Prowl on the couch. "You gonna want to lay back down when you finish that, or can I sit with you for a while?"

Prowl stalled out just a little as he took another sip of energon and Jazz voiced his question. He could come up with no logical reason the other would want to sit beside him, but he would be the first to admit that his tactical abilities were likely non-operational presently. Finally he managed a reply. "Do as you like, but you run the risk of me hitting you should my balance continue to destabilize." 

"That’s a risk I’m willing to take," Jazz said, standing just long enough to take his high grade from the table and replace his chair. He sat down carefully, scooting back into the unoccupied space on the couch so as not to spill either of their drinks. The lack of doorwings or other large kibble on his back allowed Jazz to recline comfortably, which he did. 

"You never lean on anyone for support, even now," he said somewhat sadly, then paused. His next words came out very softly, almost in a whisper. "I'm sorry I wasn't in a place I could be there for you before. But I'd like to be here for you now. If you need me." Then his visor brightened and he raised his voice again, tone lightening. "So feel free to lean on me if your balance does start to destabilize!" He smiled. "I don't mind."

Jazz's statement brought a slight smile to Prowl’s faceplates, which had him looking down at the cube in his hands to hide it. "I appreciate it, I really do," Prowl answered softly. It could have been referring to any number of statements but he again didn't reveal which.

"You know,” Jazz said after a moment, “planned or unplanned, you shouldn't be sleeping at your desk. You've more than earned the right to a good night's rest in your own home! And if you really still have to sometimes, that's all the more reason to at least get a comfortable chair or somethin'." He leaned over, trying to entice Prowl to look up again. "You could ask the Constructicons to make you one, I bet."

"They would do so gladly," Prowl agreed. "They do seem to take great joy in completing any tasks I request of them. It is, perhaps, the strangest friendship I have ever been involved in, but also one of the nicest."

He brought his helm up slowly, more to reduce risk of increased pain or dizziness than any other reason, but also to be able to glance back over at Jazz. Their own relationship - friendship, partnership, or whatever you might want to call it - had been his favorite and he was debating the merits of mentioning it. Lost in thought and focus, he didn't realize Jazz had leaned in so close until he was looking almost directly at him and froze in place. They'd rarely been so close and almost never outside of combat situations but his spark pulsed faster just as it always had. 

Jazz felt his own systems skip looking at Prowl's optics, their clear blue glowing softly so close to him. He felt sure he must be invading Prowl's personal space and that he should back away, but all he wanted to do was lean forward further, to reach across the short distance that still remained between them. He settled for not moving at all and waiting instead to see if Prowl would pull away, fearing he would, hoping he would not. 

"Just one of the nicest?" he asked meanwhile, all his attention on Prowl as the question intruded itself. "Who was the best?"

Prowl was slow in answering and this time it had nothing to do with the confusing mix of treats and more high grade than he was used to in his systems. This time he hesitated because of the loss such a reveal might cost him. "I don't know if I should tell you," he finally replied. "I don't know what you'll think of the answer..."

"Mech, the only answer I'm not gonna like is if you say it was someone other than me! I thought we had somethin' special," Jazz said. He meant it to come out lightly so that it could be taken either seriously or as a joke, but he could tell that he hadn't quite managed it as he finished his sentence. The words were too real, and at this proximity, sitting side by side and almost touching, there was no way Prowl could miss the twist in his EM field that belied the truth behind them or the self-directed embarrassment over the sudden honesty.

Jazz opened his mouth to try to explain, but couldn't think of anything to say. He had no right to expect or ask anything from Prowl, no matter how much he wanted to. Giving up, he closed his mouth again, pressing his lips together into a thin line.

"Do you really mean that?" Prowl asked. His field held more hope than he'd ever shown before and his sensor panels quivered on his back. Jazz's silence was discouraging but the high grade was providing the electric courage it was known for and Prowl decided it was time to take a big chance. He slowly leaned forward.

And promptly fell into Jazz's lap as his balance chose then to vanish, his nearly empty cube tumbling to the floor.

“Ah-!” Jazz reached out an arm in an attempt to catch Prowl, but only succeeded in putting it around him in an embrace instead. He felt a tremor run up from his hand through his whole frame and for a moment he just held still, struggling to keep his cooling fans from kicking on as he set aside his high grade.

His vocalizer crackled faintly with static as he spoke. “Yeah, Prowler.” He let the fingers of his free hand trace along the other’s plating gently, trying to believe it was real. _Is this actually happening? Am I really holding him and he’s not telling me to stop?_ “I really mean it! I want us to be special.” _And Primus, am I really saying these things?!_ But he couldn’t make the words stop. “You’re incredible and beautiful and brilliant, I love talking with you and Primus, and I’ve missed you since the war ended! You were always there and then you weren’t anymore and I missed you being part of my life and please stop me, I’m babbling!”

Seemingly oblivious to Jazz's ramblings, Prowl's voice was soft but not completely masked as he shifted to curl against the other. "This is nice... You're so warm... and comfortable. I must be dreaming," he mumbled almost into Jazz's frame. "Been wanting this for so long..." 

“You’ve wanted this?” Jazz breathed, almost afraid to move. “Oh, Prowl, I have too!” He tightened his arms around Prowl, pulling him in closer. “If you’re dreaming, then so’m I. And I don’t wanna wake up!” He moved a hand to stroke along the edge of one of Prowl’s doorwings, the touch probably too light at first by the way it twitched reflexively before he stopped being so hesitant. “I must be the luckiest mech in the world right now.”

The Praxian had been shifting subtly to find the perfect position against, and partially atop, his friend but stopped at the hug because it felt just right. He clutched against the closest plating he could find in a weak attempt to return the peacefulness and comfort he felt, and as Jazz touched his wing it pressed further into the contact even as its owner slipped closer to recharge. 

"Uh uh," Prowl muttered softly. "'M luckiest. I get you..."

“We’re both lucky,” Jazz said quietly, tilting his helm back to stare at the ceiling and just _feeling_ Prowl in his arms. When he looked back down and saw him as well, curled against him and looking so relaxed and peaceful, Jazz was struck by the level of _trust_ Prowl had in him to allow this. It was humbling, and he realized that if their roles had been reversed, he would have had the same trust in Prowl. 

He felt a wave of protectiveness sweep over him and smiled. “Lemme guess. Besides the high grade hittin’ you hard, last night was one of those recharge-at-your-desk nights, wasn’t it?” he asked, projecting security and comfort mingled with amusement in his field. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. Rest.”

Prowl mumbled something with a vaguely negative tone as his wings moved in a partial gesture that might have been trying for a negative as well but came across as sleepy instead. "Didn' recharge at my desk..." It was a quiet and seemed like a very un-Prowl-like argument on the surface as his capacity for speech slowly shut down. "I didn'... recharge..."

Rather than continue speaking, the Praxian found a way to tuck in even closer. His sensor panels flicked and fluttered for a moment in a configuration that might seem unusual to anyone without similar appendages, before settling down to lie almost completely flat on the remaining space of Jazz's lap. Only his field suggested the resting mech wasn't in recharge yet, and even that was steadying out slowly. 

Jazz knew Prowl was effectively already unconscious though, since he couldn’t really process or respond to anything he might say to him. Between the amount of high grade he’d consumed and the purring idle of Prowl’s engine against his frame, Jazz didn’t think he would be able to resist the pull of recharge much longer himself.

He reached over to snag a cushion to prop behind his helm and let his hand rest on Prowl’s, his thumb running over the ridge on the top. “Good night, Prowler,” he whispered, letting his visor power down. “ _…love…you…_ ”


	4. Not Your Traditional Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What else would you expect waking up with your crush in such a compromising position with limited memories after consuming high grade?

Jazz went from a restful state of recharge to fully online and alert instantaneously, his frame feigning continued unconsciousness while his processor spun up and began running a series of rapid assessments. He waited for them to finish, wondering what had set them off. It had been a while since this particular routine had been triggered; Jazz had put a lot of effort into securing his home so that it wouldn't be, in fact, since it wasn't exactly a pleasant way to wake up.

 _I'll skip the jolt o' paranoia with my mornin' energon, thank you!_ Still, the only other way to prevent it would have been to decommission his Ops protocols (those that weren't impossible to uninstall, anyway), and that was something he didn't feel comfortable doing even though the war was over - just in case.

Fortunately, the report that came back when the analyses concluded said that he was just laying on the couch in his living room after consuming inadvisable quantities of a very potent blend of high grade. Jazz groaned softly at the long list of memory errors scrolling by on his HUD. Most of the files probably weren't damaged beyond repair, but the incomprehensible tags his engex-addled processor had appended to them last night meant that he couldn't retrieve or access them properly until he'd had a chance to run a full defrag and get everything sorted out.

 _Details might have to wait, but at least the high grade explains the_ ‘corrupt data’ _warning,_ he thought. _I'm not likin' the reason my own couch counts as an_ 'unfamiliar environment' _though_. And it was very unfamiliar indeed - there was no denying the warm, solid weight of another mech resting partly on top of him right no. But Jazz slept alone. Especially drunk and vulnerable, Jazz slept alone. There wasn't a mech on Cybertron he could think of that he would feel safe doing that with, save one, and there was no way the mech draped over him was - 

"Prowl!" The shocked exclamation burst out of his mouth as soon as he brought his visor online and looked down. "Oh, Primus, I _need_ to run that defrag!" He gave himself a mental slap as a doorwing twitched sleepily in response to the sound. _Scrap! He's going to wake up!_ Frantically, Jazz tried to figure out a way to extricate himself from beneath the Praxian as he began to stir.

~

Foregoing his typical morning alarm, Prowl let himself slowly drift into awareness as he processed what he could of the previous night. He felt warm and comfortable, a state he’d rarely found even long before the war. There were no alerts warning him of dangerous circumstances from before he went offline either, nor of present threats, so it was safe to indulge for once. Just for a little while.

As he lay there resting, he caught a sound. Possibly a voice? It continued for a few moments but stopped before his audials came online, and he could only track it so well with his sensorwings tucked into resting state. He'd still tried though, if only to have something to work from. The best he could interpret from the data as was 'above'. Perhaps the neighbors above his apartment were having an argument again. It wouldn't be the first time. Their fights had never resulted in a visit from the enforcers though, so it wasn't any of his business.

His thoughts continued to wander as more of his systems finished their slow cycle online. He could have rushed the process; sanctioned coding rewrites throughout the war had given every soldier the ability to switch from a sedate onlining to a rapid one at any point. He hadn't needed the edit though because his time as an enforcer pre-war had solidified his own natural capacity for it. The switch did come with a jolt of temporary energy but he'd found that such always left him with a processor ache with the intensity of the Pit. It was rarely worth it.

Although this might just be one of those times, he considered, as the berth he thought he'd been laying on began to move beneath him.

~

Trying to keep his movements minimal while testing how much room he had, Jazz came up short no matter which way he went. The back of the couch kept him from scooting out behind Prowl, and its arm prevented his escape to one side while Prowl himself blocked the other, his frame curled both over Jazz and against his side. For a second, Jazz contemplated just pushing him off his lap and bolting.

He had to fight to suppress the slightly manic giggles that threatened to bubble up at the mental image of Prowl startling awake and looking around, stunned, on the floor. There was no way Jazz was foolish enough to try that though; for one, Prowl would probably snap awake and grab Jazz out of reflex to toss _him_ painfully to the ground instead, and for another… the panicked flickering in Jazz's visor subsided as he stopped squirming to look down at the mech again. He seemed so peaceful and content, his expression relaxed and free of worry or care. The thought of disturbing him from that state was almost painful for Jazz to contemplate.

Of course, he still didn't want to have to try to explain how this had happened when Prowl woke up with angry questions. He wouldn't even be able to answer those questions until he'd had a chance to run that defrag, which would probably just make things worse. _Maybe I can sorta lift him up enough to slide him over to the other side of the couch?_ Jazz wondered. The problem was he didn't have good leverage from his current position, and Prowl wasn't exactly a light mech.

_That, and it doesn't help that all I want to do is put my arms around him and hold him closer, not push him away._

~

Prowl had never been one to believe in false onlinings during recharge but he was rapidly revising that opinion as his optics lit and he found himself staring at another's plating. Plating that was painted not overly dissimilar to his own. He had yet to instigate an obligatory enforcer color scheme so there was only one other mech on planet he could think of with those colors and with whom he had had any recent dealings. But that was impossible… wasn't it?

Resetting his optics once only brought back the same visual and as his systems all came online there was no denying it. He could even feel the nearly imperceptible hum of stealth optimized systems as they lay together. That was another shock, but an almost redundant one and his processor only absently noted it for review later. But for there to be a later he had to finish the onlining process now.

His optics had already been on for almost a klik when Prowl finally onlined his vocalizer to speak. "This is certainly… unexpected. What ever happened last night?"

 _Well._ Jazz relaxed a little bit. _That doesn't sound angry. And he's cute all slow and sleepy like that_ … he killed that line of thought before his frame could betray it. "Short answer?" he said, glancing over at the table. The bottle of high grade was still there, fortunately stoppered or it probably would have evaporated significantly "I think we drank too much." Not all of Jazz's memories were too disorganized to access, and he went over what he could quickly. Bits and pieces flashed through his processor; talk of Earth games, favorite flavors, something about music. "I seem to recall you sayin' you hadn't refueled properly before comin' over. Guess it hit you pretty hard."

What he really wanted to know - how he'd wound up with Prowl curled up in his lap - eluded him. _I need to figure out what happened so I can make sure it happens again_ , he thought, regretting already the moment when Prowl would inevitably finish waking up and pull away.

"I suppose so…" Prowl replied as he considered it. At about the same time it finally registered that he was _still_ lying across the other's lap and he scrambled to right himself, sensor panels fluttering for additional balance. It was only after he had situated himself firmly on the other side of the couch and as far as he could get from touching Jazz that he spoke again, wings flicking for a completely different reason now.

"My apologies. I don't know what happened but that was highly inappropriate of me and I promise it won't happen again."

"Hey, no, it's fine," Jazz rushed to reassure him. "There's no need to apologize." His plating pulled down defensively against the cold he felt in his frame as Prowl's warmth left him, and in his spark as he watched him recoil. He'd expected it, but it still hurt. His instinct was to reach for him, but Prowl looked so unsettled, like he'd flinch if Jazz tried to touch him. Sinking back against the other arm of the couch, Jazz tried to give him some room, hoping it looked relaxed instead of dejected.

"You didn't do anything inappropriate," he said. "If anyone did, it was probably me and I should be the one sayin' I'm sorry."

Prowl didn't respond to any of it, although his wings did flick a few times as Jazz spoke. His control over them wasn't yet perfectly regained in the midst of everything else. Finally though, he spoke. "Other than apparently imbibing copious amounts of high grade," and here he looked to the bottle with a stern expression as though it was entirely to blame for everything. "What else happened? My memories didn't settle correctly…"

The last statement would have been a risk to share around most mechs, but he only noticed that factor after mentioning it. He just had to hope Jazz didn't think badly of him for seemingly letting go of so many old precautions.

Jazz wasn't surprised that Prowl was experiencing memory issues too, though it was unexpected that he would so easily admit to it. Prowl guarded his weaknesses as dearly as Jazz usually did his own. _What does that mean?_ he wondered. _That he believes he can trust me, the way I trust him? Or that he's still a little out of it from drinkin' that stuff on an empty tank?_ The way his doorwings kept twitching might be a sign of actual damage from their indulgence, but it could also just be a sign of lingering disorientation that would clear on its own momentarily.

Deciding just to keep an optic on him (not exactly a hardship) and say something only if Prowl didn't seem to be settling, Jazz shook his helm. "I don't have all of mine either," he said, his voice smooth and calm as he returned the favor of information in kind. "My processor did some pretty fancy indexin' last night, and I've been up less than a klik myself. Gonna take longer'n that to sort everything out."

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders minutely at first, then more obviously as the movement loosened several stiff components. Jazz arched his frame against the back of the couch, stretching his arms up over his helm as far as they would extend and his legs out in front, feet lifting up off the ground before relaxing once more into a normal sitting position. 

Prowl found himself staring as his processor finally reached standard functionality. He quickly pulled his gaze away as his sensor panels dropped to a steady neutral position. And if there was just the slightest tilt of apology to the angle, well, it wasn't as though Jazz had likely had opportunity to learn all the subtleties of wing language and it could easily be blamed on another cause if he did ask.

Jazz narrowed his optics behind his visor where Prowl couldn't see. He was glad to see them stop flicking and twitching, but he was pretty sure Prowl was using their tilt to sneak in that apology that he'd said wasn't necessary. It was hard to be sure though; Praxian wing language was very subtle, and for all Jazz had trained in picking up cues from a variety of frame types as part of his job in SpecOps, the focus had been slanted towards those frame classes favored by the Decepticons. Seeker wing language was not the same thing.

 _'Course, if he's that set on apologizing, he'll be thinkin' it even if he isn't sayin' it_ , Jazz conceded, and let it go. “You agreed to Game Night, by the way," he informed Prowl instead with a smile. "Don't forget to commission a board so we can play."

The words drew Prowl’s attention back to the other and dredged up a few, fairly clear, memories. The smile he gave in return was more accident than intention as he ran through the files rapidly. "I suppose I did. I have no estimate on how long it could take to create however, so we may need to postpone the first of these 'Game Nights'. If you'd like, I can offer you a date once I find out the expected time frame? Is your comm frequency still the same?"

"It is," Jazz answered, capitalizing on the opportunity to see Prowl again. "And yes, please do. I meant it when I said I'd look forward to it." He tilted his helm inquisitively. "My place or yours?"

Prowl considered that question for a moment. "Wherever you would feel most comfortable, I suppose. You have more space, although my apartment should still easily accommodate just the two of us."

"You're welcome here anytime," Jazz replied warmly, "even if I'm curious to see your place too. I'm tryin' to picture it - it’d be nice to see if my guesses are on the mark." He felt a little bit anxious about what felt like inviting himself over, but Prowl had offered, and he really was curious. It would be perfectly all right if Prowl preferred to come back here instead, however. Maybe by then Jazz would have an idea how they had wound up together on the couch.

"Perhaps on one occasion then," Prowl decided. "From the sounds of it, there will be many of these 'Game Nights' and I doubt there need be any rule that they should always occur in the same location. Although you may well decide you prefer it here after seeing how drab the alternative is."

He debated it for a moment, but decided to include one last comment with just a hint of teasing in his tone. "I don't even have a music system."

"No rules but the ones we make up," Jazz agreed. "But I'll reserve my final judgment until after I've got something to compare. Really though," he said, a bit of a joking demeanor entering his voice as well, "no music? That's just plain uncivilized!"

He paused to think. "I could always help you set something up, you know. All you gotta do is ask."

"I suppose I could," Prowl agreed. "It was never a priority however, nor did I anticipate any reason to need such a thing. You'll have to forgive my oversight on that matter."

As the joking died down and the conversation seemed to peter out to nothingness, Prowl resisted the urge to fidget. The silence that was descending was full of awkward questions and valid but equally awkward concerns that neither wanted to voice. It was awkward in ways that they had never known during the war and the Praxian wanted to squirm under the perceived scrutiny of his former ally and hopefully present friend. He wanted to but didn't. Not even in the slightest, nope. 

Jazz was struggling not to fidget now himself to fill the quiet with something, anything. He was starting to feel a growing need for a some space and time alone to go over what had happened, but he couldn't come up with a way to ask. Several times he almost started to speak but then didn't, afraid he would make a misstep that would drive his friend away for good, not just for the time being.

Prowl's stiff _refusal_ to fidget was worse than if he'd been still visibly twitchy. The awkwardness grated on Jazz, and he knew if he didn't find a harmless way to fill it he'd say or do something that would make things worse. He could wait patiently for orn on end for a mission, but even a klik was too long for him to stand this kind of strain. He glanced around the room, optics searching for a distraction and lighting on the bottle still sitting on the table.

"Should put that away," he said somewhat abruptly, getting up smoothly from the couch to pick it up and take it back to the kitchen where he could use rearranging things in the cupboards as a cover for his nerves.

"I should be leaving anyway," Prowl commented as soon as Jazz stood. "I'm covering an extra shift today because a couple new officers, who are actually a couple as well, apparently, had a minor mishap in the berthroom that's landed them in the medcenter for a couple orn. I also need to make sure those with modified schedules have received their updated copy as I neglected to do so before leaving last night."

There was a slight clatter as Jazz fumbled the glasses he'd been shuffling, thoughts of Prowl in conjunction with the berthroom zinging through his processor. He shut a cabinet more forcefully than he meant to as his systems, already running on high from having woken up the way he did, ratcheted up another notch as a result. 

The sharp snap of the door helped bring his focus back enough to address the rest of what Prowl had said. "Duty calls, huh?" He was proud the words didn't sound as tightly wound as he felt. "I won't keep you then. The place'd probably cease to function at all without you." 

Coming around the corner, he grabbed a cube of regular energon and pressed it into Prowl's hands before stepping back quickly to hide the charge building just beneath his plating. "Don't short yourself or work too hard, okay?"

"I… of course," Prowl answered. His gaze went from where it had been transfixed on the cube unexpectedly thrust into his hands up to meet Jazz's. There was something unreadable in the subtle language of his frame but the Praxian had no way to interpret it. He only knew that it wasn't something he'd ever noticed the other express before. Perhaps he had been too candid in his explanation. It would not be the first time.

In any case, it was probably for the best that he was leaving. Still, he couldn't go without at least attempting to return the well wishes. "I'll be fine, but thank you. Do take care of yourself too, all right?"

"Don't I always?" Jazz smiled. "I'll probably stay in and work on those instruments some more before my gig tonight. Get in a little quiet time."

He hoped Prowl didn't feel like he was rushing him out as he went over to the door and began disarming the security, but he needed that personal time and needed it soon, and not for working on instruments. Prowl was sure to notice something was up soon if he stayed, and Jazz would rather be a bit abrupt now than die of embarrassment when his cooling fans kicked on.

 _I knew it, I knew I'd find a way to make this even more awkward!_ The thought of losing control like that in front of Prowl was just as mortifying as what it would reveal about his thoughts, but his stopgap measures were becoming less effective by the astrosecond and he was too wired to shunt off the excess energy without it being visible to the Praxian's advanced sensors. _I don't want him thinkin' I can't handle myself after all this time! He'd think I was pathetic, and probably be offended by it too._

"You're, uh, going to take care of talking to the Constructicons soon, right?" he checked. "I really appreciate you bein' willing to do that, by the way. Just so you know," he finished lamely.

"Of course…" Prowl’s response was slow as the unexpected statement pulled him from his thoughts. "It's just absurd to assume another follows the same cultural habits as yourself and even if they do, a bonding request is not to be given so suddenly." _I'm also curious where they learned of that tradition and why they chose a Praxian tradition at all_ , he thought, but decided not to add.

"Mech, I don't think I need to tell you that absurd doesn't stop some mechs from gettin' mad when you don't see things the same way they do." Jazz smiled almost sadly. "Or keep them from losing control in that anger. So, again, thank you." 

"True… Although I'm also certain that if they were to get violent you could handle the situation before any help would arrive. Even if you had to contend with all of them, as they would have no way to combine." Prowl's small smile was unreadable as it fit in a myriad of emotion. Morbid amusement, guilt, sadness, humor, hints of anger, disbelief. Commentary about the war, even safe and interesting events during it, frequently stirred most of these feelings and then some. In retrospect, there were so many choices he should have made that could have ended the war sooner. So many more risks he should have been willing to take with strategies, even dangerous ones. 

But then again, there was no guarantee those choices were better and perhaps the ones he'd made really were for the best because they had both survived. Countless others hadn't, but he could only analyze so far into the future of other potential courses of action and there was no way to know if even more would have turned grey down one of those alternate paths.

"I probably could, yeah," Jazz acknowledged, the casual words belied by the conflicting bundle of emotions that always accompanied thoughts of the war coloring his tone. "But I'd rather win by preventin' a fight than endin' one, if you follow me." The slightly haunted look that ghosted briefly over his features said he'd done more than enough of the latter, a bitter mix of regret and acceptance of what he had done.

In his processor Jazz didn't try to gild anything by pretending he hadn't had a choice. Everything he'd done, he'd done because he had chosen to; at first because he'd believed it was right, then because he'd believed it was necessary, but there had always been options. Those options might have been limited, but the lesser of two evils was still a choice, and Jazz would own what he had done now even as he worked to make sure he never had to again.

Then the shadow passed and Jazz's visor brightened again. "Anyway, don't be a stranger! I'm really glad you came over," he said, disengaging the final lock and opening the door. "Let me know when you're free to get together again, even if it's before the board is done." He hoped it would be before.

Prowl forcibly cut the darker thread off in his own processor and skimmed the previous klik mentally. He'd only lost a little of it to dwelling on the past so he let his expression soften and his smile morph to something lighter. The cheer was even genuine in his tone when he stated, "I am glad to hear that, I really am." His wings tilted just a bit higher and happiness crept into his field as well. "And I do hope to see you again soon."

With a final wave, he turned and stepped through the door and down to the street. With a quick transformation, he was soon driving off. There was a lot on his mind and several new tasks he had to prepare for now, but given who they were related to and why he had no complaints.

Jazz stood in the doorway watching just until Prowl turned the corner and disappeared from sight. The instant he was gone, Jazz all but slammed the door shut and started quickly re-engaging his security, unable to relax until it pinged back 'armed' at its highest setting. 

His fans finally whirred to life to dump some of the heat that had been building in his overworked systems and he stepped back into the living room and paused by the couch. The stress of projecting a calm front in the face of the jolt of waking up to Ops protocols, the disorientation that came with fragmented memories, and the strain of maintaining control over what was proving to be frustratingly persistent arousal, left him shaking with reaction where he stood now that it was safe.

 _Next time, skip the high grade_ , he told himself, then grinned, feeling giddy. _Next time!_

With a silent ‘thank you’ to the Constructicons for starting the chain of events that had brought Prowl back into his life, Jazz flopped down onto the couch gratefully. Now he had the rest of the orn to sort himself out - mentally _and_ physically - and to bask in the glow of Prowl agreeing to see him again.


	5. Lost in Thought and Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time Prowl pays Jazz a surprise visit at work.

The better part of two decaorn passed before Prowl got the chance to seek Jazz out. Granted, it had only taken a few orn to find time and opportunity to speak with his team. Tracking them down would have been a different story though since they didn't keep any set schedule or pattern he could decipher for their chosen work location at any given time, but he did have resources most didn't. Even if outside of their combined form he only had a vague awareness of their locations. That conversation had run longer than he'd anticipated however, even though he had planned extra time in based on the anticipated need to explain cultural differences. After he requested they work on a simple project for him when they found time. Any chance of catching Jazz that orn had been ruined and naturally a curious case would then pop up and consume his limited free time for the next few orn.

Finally though, Prowl had managed to free up most of an evening so he could visit Jazz. He'd had every intention to comm him, but a chance glance at his chronometer suggested that was a bad idea. Jazz was likely to be working currently and, if so, would probably have his comm unit temporarily unavailable, meaning there would be no answer. Even worse would be if he did have his frequency accessible and he received a comm call during his performance, which might cause him to mess up. True, the bar was nothing like a grand performance theater from before the war, but there was no way Prowl would willingly risk ruining his music time. If nothing else, that might be the factor that destroyed their re-blossoming friendship.

The safer option, Prowl decided, was to simply stop by the bar and see if Jazz was working. If he was, then at least he could talk with him afterwards. He might also be there to chat with friends even if he wasn't working. In which case he would find him anyway. And if Jazz wasn't there at all? Well, then Prowl at least knew he wouldn't be interrupting his time onstage to call him.

Choice made, he was out the door and driving towards the bar almost immediately after. He encountered no difficulties arriving nor entering and finding a seat. Jazz was there and already working, which meant Prowl had time to sit and listen just as he'd wanted to the first time. So that's exactly what he did. He even remembered to order a cube of standard energon to consume as he waited.

On stage, Jazz didn’t see Prowl when he came in, or even when he settled at his table. He was too busy letting his music be a distraction from his thoughts. Usually he paid more attention to his audience, watching them, connecting with them and tailoring his performance to their mood, but tonight he just needed to let go and stop thinking. 

There hadn't been a single orn since that night that Jazz hadn't run the same circles around in his head thinking about Prowl, ever since he'd sorted out the tangle in his processor, and he needed a break. The not-quite crash recovering his memories had triggered when he reviewed them had left Jazz wondering how much of what Prowl had said he had really meant, and how much of the night Prowl would remember after a proper defrag of his own. Jazz was acutely embarrassed to recall some of the things he'd said to Prowl, and he was torn between being certain that Prowl hadn't called him yet because it was too soon and he was busy, and certain that he'd blown his chance and that he would never hear from him again because he'd offended or disgusted him. 

There was also the fact that they had agreed that Prowl would be the one to contact him. If it weren't for that promise, Jazz would have called Prowl himself and probably made a complete idiot of himself in the process. Fortunately he hadn’t, since if he hadn't already chased Prowl off for good not waiting for him to call and harassing him with personal questions would certainly be a good way to do it. It didn't matter how much he wanted to know if Prowl had actually been about to kiss him when he'd leaned forward before falling over into his lap; Jazz _couldn't_ risk losing his friendship now that he was finally back in his life if he hadn't, even for that tiniest hope that he _had._

So Jazz had dimmed his visor and poured his focus into the strings beneath his fingers, letting the notes drown out the sound of his thoughts as he played. The peace it brought him was only temporary and he knew it, but he'd take it and use the music as an outlet for all the feelings threatening to overwhelm him, pouring them out in golden melodies.

It was always one thing to know something and another to witness it. Prowl knew, logically, that Jazz was skilled with music, so it shouldn't have been as much of a surprise to find that such a description was woefully inadequate to truly describe it. The tapestry of sound Jazz wove was masterfully crafted, at least so far as his regrettably limited knowledge was concerned. It was so enchanting that Prowl even forgot about the cube of energon in his hands as he spread his sensor wings to absorb more of the perfectly crafted notes. He wished now that he hadn’t picked a table off in a back corner, for every reason other than he would have felt bad about disturbing the other patrons to find a closer one. Yet he might not have found it in himself to care if he had just this once, for the chance to take in the sound more completely.

The music was hauntingly beautiful. He had never properly understood how music could express feeling before but now he thought he might. A sad sounding piece, it still managed to suggest hopefulness amid the desperation and sorrow. Or perhaps he was simply projecting his own feelings onto what he was hearing.

Prowl had set a mid range priority on sorting out the memories from his night with Jazz (and how strange was it to think that! Especially because it brought out a longing he could barely fight) and let his tactical computer do the rest in the background of his processor. Even with the high grade induced mess, he had still gotten results by the end of the first orn. The alert had popped up just before he attempted to recharge however, so he'd postponed checking until the morning. Of course, when the morning had come there had been so many other things to do that he'd skipped over the mock report of that night again, only remembering it shortly before recharge once more. Another night of postponing and another morning of activity led to one more lost orn, and then the chance to speak with his team had come up and he'd foregone the memories yet again in favor of settling all those issues. Another lost orn.

At that point he'd grown hesitant to see what had happened, as curious as he also was. After some time to consider what he already knew sober, he was not excited to see how poorly he had doubtlessly behaved. It wasn't that he was a lightweight or incapable of handling his high grade, but he did have enough clear memories to recall neither recharging the previous night nor refueling that particular orn, and such oversights in conjunction would always lead to getting rapidly overcharged and heightening the effects of the engex.

Naturally, as with any plans or thoughts he held in that state of prolonged waiting, some fragments eventually slipped through. None of them made him any more eager to know the full truth. In particular, the most damning thing that he'd relived so far was a few nanokliks where he'd chosen to lean forward and attempt to kiss Jazz, only to lose his balance and end in his lap instead. Whatever could have possessed him to believe that was a good idea? He'd never considered himself to be one with such poor judgement when overcharged but he'd also never indulged much, nor with others around. To think he might have tried something equally stupid around any of the other officers, or Primus forbid the common troops, was terrifying.

The longer Prowl sat at his chosen table, the more he regretted his decision to come and if not for the wondrous music he would have left. Instead he was captivated and stuck to his seat as though welded. Perhaps though, he might luck out. Jazz didn't seem to be paying a lot of attention to his audience and hadn’t appeared to notice him back in his little corner. If he could just have enough luck that the other wouldn't see him at all then he might be able to escape after Jazz left the stage. If he could get home safely, then he would finally force himself through the memories of that night and decide how to proceed from there.

Oblivious to Prowl’s presence or his inner turmoil, indeed, oblivious to the world around him as a whole, Jazz was unaware that he’d deviated completely from his planned set for the evening. Lost to the ebb and flow, he felt his spark spin faster with the crescendo of sound as one phrase rose and built, only to wind back down with another as the melody turned briefly soft and slow… or perhaps it was the rate of his spark that dictated the pace of the music, his frantic and desperate hope making the notes race before doubt and resignation curbed their energy and enthusiasm for a time before they shuddered and broke free again.

Jazz brought together elements of familiar songs alongside passages of pure improvisation. Pieces of Cybertronian history, pieces of Earthen pop culture, pieces of himself, they all came together seamlessly to create something completely new; an instrumental offering to placate the chaos in his processor and in his spark. The words that would have accompanied the borrowed themes were unknown to the majority of his listeners, and any he would have added of his own were too personal to utter out loud. He sang them silently, lips ghosting over inaudible lyrics with barely perceptible movement as a counterpoint to the rapid dance of his fingers.

Had he been conscious of said listeners, Jazz would have been surprised by how receptive they were. Something so unplanned and unpracticed was better suited to a private jam session than a live performance, after all, and the mood was not a typical match for the venue. They had come to hear him play for them, not for himself. But to a one, the mechs gathered in the bar were transfixed, Jazz’s emotions resonating with their experiences to create a shared, shining moment, suspended in time and saturated in meaning.

It was one of the best performances he’d ever given, though he didn’t know it any more than he realized who was watching him from the corner. The irony of it was that the song was both for and about Prowl, but Jazz never could have played it to him knowingly. Instead, he played to the image of the black and white Praxian in his mind as he always imagined him: calm, collected, dedicated and decisive. And beautiful. Primus, the mech was beautiful, in frame, processor and spark.

In one last soaring crescendo, Jazz gave his feelings free, uncensored reign and the song took off, spiraling up into pure, unfiltered adoration. It didn’t matter that Prowl had probably just been accidentally intoxicated to the point of saying things he didn’t mean in his confusion, it didn’t matter that he might never want anything more to do with Jazz for the things he had said far too brazenly and inappropriately in return. Here, secure in the thought that the Praxian would never hear it, Jazz could let the music acknowledge what he was afraid to admit even to himself.

But Prowl did hear it, and even if he didn’t understand it there was no denying that he was enthralled by the music. Optics offline and sensor panels spread, he could feel it. Almost to his spark. No, it was in spark, diffusing through all that he was and in this one instance he felt perfectly at ease with that. Perhaps because the music seemed to be an extension of its creator. Somewhere in the depths of his mind where conscious thought did still exist beneath the immersion, he absently wondered how long Jazz had been working on this piece. He had improvised musical performances in the past for the crew that Prowl had heard parts of, but never something of this caliber.

With a final ringing note, the piece culminated in a release that was almost physical. The sound held Jazz frozen, frame locked and rigid, freeing him only as it started to fade. When it did, Jazz felt himself slump forward over his instrument, suddenly drained and exhausted. He kept himself from falling through sheer force of will, swaying slightly as his visor blinked on and he struggled to orient himself. The room swam briefly around him before resolving itself, the image of Prowl that he’d burned into his processor as he played lingering in the corner of his vision.

So lost in the music and the sensations it created, Prowl missed his first chance to flee, while Jazz was taking a moment to recover. Then that brilliant blue visor lit up and he refused the urge to shrink further into the corner. Such an action might easily draw Jazz's attention as he looked out over the room. No, it would be better to wait for him to vanish backstage or into the crowd to find whatever friends of his might be around tonight. If the former, then Jazz wouldn't be there to spot him leaving. If the latter, hopefully he would be distracted enough not to notice him. Barring that, there was always the hope Jazz would find his conversation more important than trying to follow him if he did.

While Prowl deliberated, the distance between Jazz and his surroundings finished shrinking back down to normal. Fully present once again, Jazz smiled at the members of the audience, engaging with them at last and waving a broad thank-you/you’re-welcome around the room as he stood to leave the stage. 

Skybyte met him at the side. “That’s really unfair, making me follow something like that,” he muttered.

“Didn’t mean to set you up that way,” Jazz said jovially, slapping the mech on the back as they switched out. “You’ll do fine! Don’t try to follow it, change it – go for somethin’ totally different. They’ll dig it.” 

He cleared off faster than usual, the ambient noise of the room grating on neural circuits left slightly raw after his performance. He hadn’t meant to put quite so much of himself out in the open like that, and his emotions still felt too close to the surface, too vulnerable. He needed a moment to collect and compose himself, to settle his stage persona back into place.

Prowl let his focus drop to the table and the cube he still had waiting as Jazz spoke with the mech apparently taking his place onstage. Something about him tugged vaguely at his memory files, and if Prowl had really given it thought perhaps he would have recalled detaining the mech at least once. As it was, his thoughts were too consumed with the need and desire to leave before Jazz could spot him. He looked like he was aiming to go backstage so Prowl should be free to make his escape unnoticed soon. Or so he thought as he turned his attention to his energon and pondered whether to consume any before leaving or not. It would be a waste not to since he had ordered it, but he didn’t know how long Jazz would be gone. Was it worth the risk of spending the extra time?

A stationary spot of black and white persisted in the corner of Jazz’s vision amidst the moving swirl of color as he swung himself around the side of the steps to head backstage. Drawn up short, he went still as he focused on it and made the identification. That was _Prowl_ \- the real Prowl, not his imagination! - sitting in the back of the room, sensor panels spread elegantly, an untouched cube of energon in his hands. 

Jazz hurriedly looked to see if he had missed any messages from before going onstage even as he double-checked that his optics weren’t playing tricks on him. Nothing. No messages, no errors. Prowl was really there, but he hadn’t called to let him know he was coming.

 _How long has he been there?!_ The thought raced through Jazz’s processor. _And why didn’t he say anything?_ For a second Jazz felt crushed, certain that was proof that the mech didn’t want to talk to him again just as he’d feared. _No, he came here_ , he reasoned with himself. _That has to mean something. Maybe…just maybe…_

Worried that Prowl wouldn’t still be there if he went backstage first and then came back, Jazz altered his path and began making his way directly over to him. He forced down his nervousness and fear. After tearing himself up over it for the last decaorn there was no way he was going to miss this chance to talk and figure out where they stood.

Prowl was pulled from his musings as proximity alerts lit up in his processor and he looked up to determine the cause just to see the very mech dominating his processor had changed directions and was closing in. It took a very deliberate effort to keep his wings from tilting up and back and revealing his _shock/surprise_ , but that gave him something to focus on as his thoughts otherwise vanished. It wasn't unlike one of his processor lockups, and yet it was completely different. With those he got stuck on the same limited thoughts in an endless loop; this time he simply had no thoughts at all. It was actually an incredibly disconcerting state for him, given his nature to be constantly thinking and analyzing data. 

Poorly practiced social protocols belatedly reminded him that typically a greeting of some sort was in order but try as he might, Prowl could manage nothing better than an airy, "Jazz…"

“Hey there, Prowl!” Jazz said much more naturally, stopping when he reached the table. “I didn’t know you were plannin’ on coming by tonight.” The question, _Why didn’t you tell me?_ didn't quite make it past his lips, and Jazz hoped his frame language was casual enough that the Praxian wouldn’t read accusation in his stance. After all, he didn’t blame Prowl for not calling him. Pit, if anything Jazz blamed himself for not realizing Prowl hadn’t refueled before giving him that much engex.

Up close Jazz could see the cube Prowl was holding was a standard blend rather than something stronger and he nodded at it. “Had enough of high grade for a while?” He wanted to smack himself as soon as he finished the sentence, realizing how bad it sounded. Backpedaling quickly, he blurted out, “Not that I think you had too much! Or did anything wrong! I mean– forget I said that. I’m just glad to see you. To see you remembered to refuel!”

Jazz felt like he’d been drinking high grade again himself for all the control he seemed to have. He was sure his visor was flaring over-bright with embarrassment. “Sorry, can I start over?” he asked sheepishly. “I really am glad to see you. It’s a nice surprise.”

Prowl let him speak through all the awkward ramblings as he attempted to find any words for himself. Admittedly, it was a bit disorienting to watch Jazz of all mechs ramble, so his attempts were very much thwarted along the way. Finally though, Jazz seemed to hit his proper stride and that helped. Although it had been cute to witness him floundering about in what was usually his element…

Cutting that thread in his processor, Prowl did manage to find enough conscious thought to formulate a reply. "It was something of a surprise to myself as well," he explained before offering, "you can sit if you'd like."

Wordlessly Jazz reached for the second chair, and Prowl waited for him to finish getting settled before he continued. "A few things came up and before I knew it the orns had flown by. I finally found myself with a free evening somehow tonight." The truth, or at least most of it, was never a bad idea around an ex-spy, but more than that it just felt right to tell it. "I would have messaged you but it was getting late and I didn't want to disturb your performance if you were working."

“Shoulda figured it was somethin' like that," Jazz said, relieved. "Ain't like you gettin' caught up with work is unheard of." And it wasn't, it really wasn't. Hearing it from Prowl was much more effective than trying to tell himself, however. At last, some of Jazz's doubt subsided. "Makes me glad I rate high enough to fit into your busy schedule! As for disturbin’ me,” he tilted his helm toward the stage briefly, "you don't need to worry. I filter calls when I’m performin’ so I don't get distracted, and if I forget to, that's my own fault." He couldn't help the soft smile as the consideration sank in. "That's really sweet of you though, bein' so thoughtful. Thank you."

Prowl returned Jazz's smile with one of his own but let him finish before speaking again. "You are welcome, although the thanks is unnecessary." To him it simply was a common courtesy, but he knew few others shared his mentality. 

What he didn’t know was that not calling the way he had could have been just as much of a problem as if he had interrupted Jazz to let him know he was coming. If Jazz hadn't been so caught up in the music and had noticed Prowl unexpectedly in the audience while he was playing, he probably would have audibly missed a few notes from shock. 

That thought did cross Jazz’s processor, however, and it reminded him that Prowl had been there to watch his performance and that he had heard his last song. Jazz felt his plating crawl with nervous embarrassment, wondering what he had thought of it. 

"So… what did you think?"

“Do you mean the establishment, the atmosphere or your piece tonight?" Prowl asked, but then didn't allow Jazz a chance to actually clarify for fear he might lose his nerve if he broke momentum. "The first approximately meets unanticipated expectations, although there's likely a few health and safety violations. The second, to the best I am aware, was fine and could certainly be worse… but those aren't what you want to know my opinion on, are they?"

Again he didn't let Jazz speak, having hit his own stride of rambling although it definitely came out more coherent and collected than most could manage. "As to the last, your performance, I don't know how to explain it… I've never known music could be that powerful or do anything like that and that is probably the closest I have ever come to understanding why you're so drawn to it even though I know I could never hope to produce anything nearly as amazing."

A nervous flutter of his doorwings brought his focus back and he instantly apologized. “I'm sorry, I should have considered what to say before I began speaking but I…" He paused, thinking for a few nanokliks before speaking again. "I did enjoy it, I promise. It really was wonderful." _Just like the mech making it,_ he managed to keep himself from adding.

Prowl's first answer was so _Prowl_ that Jazz almost laughed out loud. His remarks about the venue and general mood were very straightforward observations and true, as far as they went. Jazz imagined Blurr might have a few things to say in regards to that comment about safety violations if he heard, however. He'd been about to tell Prowl how very like him it was to bring work to a place meant for relaxing and getting away from work when the mech had continued, and his words left Jazz momentarily speechless.

It took him a second to collect his thoughts enough to respond. "That may not be the most eloquent compliment I've ever received, but it's still one of the best I've ever gotten." He focused on the part of it that he could talk about safely, rather than dwelling on the fact that just getting a compliment from Prowl was the highest praise he could have hoped for. "Art should affect you, should move you, and hearing that I was successful in that is great. Even if you didn't get a specific message from it, you felt something from it, and that… that’s the point," he tripped slightly, the pause audible. "How you experience art means just as much as what the creator intended, and sharing it is what makes it really special."

Now he did laugh. "Primus, listen to me, spoutin' off theory like that! Sorry, didn’t mean to bore you with it, it's just, you're right. It is important to me, and I…" Jazz let his sentence trail off. His fingers twitched restlessly, and he wished he had a cube of his own to grip if only to keep from fidgeting. "It means a lot, to hear you say that," he finished softly.

“I'm glad you think so," Prowl replied just as softly. Then, for lack of anything else to do or say, he finally brought his cube up for a short drink. The faint twitching in his wings was a sure sign of his embarrassment however.

"Are you done for the night?” he asked when he set his cube down again. Unable to come up with another topic or any probable future of their previous one, he settled on a neutral, but ultimately important, question. "Or will you be back on stage again? We do still have a bit of business to discuss if you have time."

“I got time now,” Jazz said, glad of the change in conversation. He’d certainly been feeling more and more awkward, and Prowl seemed to be as well, though Jazz wasn’t positive whose words those wing flips were in reaction to. “I can’t leave yet since I’ve got another set later, but it’s not for a while. We could go backstage for a bit, if you’d rather talk somewhere quieter,” he offered. “I’m gonna grab a cube first though, I need it after that!”

"Go ahead," Prowl replied calmly. This was better. Casual conversation like this was always much easier around Jazz and he was glad they were still able to do that. "Whichever location you prefer is fine by me. I'm mostly here to inform you how that proposal you asked me to intervene on is progressing. Or rather, in this case, how it's not."

“Oh! Great, I was wonderin’ about that. Yeah, let’s go backstage then.” Jazz hopped back to his feet, gesturing over to a small door by the end of the bar. “Meet you over by the door? I’ll just be a sec.”

Prowl’s comment was promising, and Jazz felt his spirits lift as he stepped up to the counter. For all he’d been worrying about Prowl and whether or not he’d offended him, Jazz had been concerned about the Constructicons’ interests as well. He had been as grateful not to hear anything more from them as he’d been worried not to hear from Prowl, since he’d been just as unsure how to handle either situation.

 _Sounds like he’s had a chance to tell them off though_ , he thought, signaling for his usual and taking the cube when it was handed to him. It wasn’t quite standard energon, but it wasn’t laced with anything strong enough to qualify as high grade, either. What it did contain was a shot of the quick-burn energizer he preferred, which lent the mixture both a slight purple cast and a strong aroma. Some of the other performers had given him grief over his chosen ‘restorative’ – right up until he’d convinced them to try it and they felt how well it worked.

He took a sip before leaving the counter, the familiar flavor and burst of energy doing wonders to settle his systems. Seeing Prowl still waiting for him, no longer looking so tense and nervous, helped as well. 

Jazz stepped up next to him to put in the code to open the employees-only door. “You brought your cube, right? Did you want to grab anything else before we go back?” he asked. “I could recommend somethin’ of the astringent variety, if you were feelin’ experimental. You said you liked acidic flavors, yeah?”

"I did and I do, but that's not necessary at present. Surprisingly, I did remember to refuel this morning," Prowl shared, even offering a hint of a smile. "Perhaps next time though."

His expression did slip to a slight frown with his wings drawing back a bit as he looked to the door. "Are you certain I'm even allowed back there? Usually pathways that require access codes have limited 'authorized personnel' lists."

“You’re allowed as long as you’re accompanied by said ‘authorized personnel’; namely, me,” Jazz assured him. “I promise, we’re not breakin’ any rules. I wouldn’t do that to you.” The door opened with a soft beep as Jazz’s code was accepted. “C’mon, we can use the lounge area, no one else’ll be back there until after Skybyte finishes his set.” 

Prowl accepted that with both a flick of his sensor panels and a slight nod and followed after Jazz.


	6. Sharing Information

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again our unknowing lovebirds talk a lot but not about the most crucial detail. Direct continuation from the previous chapter, in case that feels at all ambiguous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're sure you're all getting bored of them ignoring mentioning their feelings so we'll give you something different next chapter. We promise.

After leaving the noise of the bar behind, Jazz led Prowl a short way down the corridor to a room with a small collection of tables and chairs much like those out in the main room of the bar. Jazz set his drink down on the nearest one and grabbed a chair, tossing the bookfile that had been resting on it onto another table before sitting down. “So, what did you say to them?”

Prowl found himself a seat as Jazz did and was settled in it by the time the question came. “Well, my first concern was whether they even understood what they'd given to you. Once that situation was cleared up and they understood the full implications it got a bit easier.

“You'll be pleased to hear," and now he offered Jazz a smile again. “They most certainly did not intend to ask for a bond." He didn't offer the impression he'd gleaned of an unspoken 'not yet' though, that would do no good to share and could be handled if it came up again. There were other issues to deal with first, such as… “Truth be told, even Hook has no idea what would happen if they did attempt to bond with anyone and the effects it might have on that individual. There aren't exactly many studies that have been done on gestalt teams to determine such things after all." Again, he refrained from adding that Hook was looking into it anyway.

“Prowler, I wasn’t even _thinkin_ ’ about what it would do to me physically to bond with ‘em. I was a little more concerned with the idea they’d even asked.” Jazz let out a relieved ex-vent. “I am glad to hear that’s not what they were goin’ for with those crystals.”

He leaned back in his chair and tipped his helm to stare up at the ceiling, contemplating the best way to put his thoughts into words. “I don’t think they’re bad mechs or anything, factional history bein’ just that - history,” he started slowly, “but they were comin’ on too strong. Too much, too fast, you know? I don’t mind gettin’ to know ‘em and maybe givin’ friendship a try, but the only way to be friends is to get to know each other, and sneakin’ presents on me wasn’t helping me get to know them any.”

“It was a bit much, that I can certainly agree with. They even seemed to understand that. It's why they're willing to let the next move be yours,” Prowl said. “They did agree to back off and let you be for a while. I convinced them that if you were interested and had the time then you would seek them out. Perhaps when the game boards are complete you could be the one to pick them up? That's entirely your choice however.”

“Pickin’ up the boards sounds reasonable enough as an overture of friendship,” Jazz said. “And kinda poetic, as far as a next move. Nice symbolism. Though the mech I’m really lookin’ forward to playin’ with is you.” He felt his faceplates heating following that statement. _Now why’d you have to go and say somethin’ like that?!_ He picked up his cube to take a quick drink. _Calm down, it’s fine, he’ll probably just take that at face value, think I was talkin’ about the board games. Which I was!_ He swallowed hard. _Though that doesn’t make the other interpretation any less true…_

Prowl's doorwings flicked once after Jazz's comment but otherwise he didn't respond. Whether it was because he missed the innuendo or simply didn't care was indiscernible. 

Jazz moved on, changing the subject as a thought sparked in his processor. “They sure seem to know me pretty well. Some of those gifts were kinda personal.” He set his cube down slowly and looked at Prowl. “How’d they even find out some of that stuff? And why the sudden interest in me in the first place? We never had much to do with each other, during or after the war. So why now?”

Prowl's wings sank slightly at Jazz's words and he set his own cube back down untouched. “I'm fairly certain I'm to blame for the first part although I can't explain the sudden interest. My only guess on that is that perhaps they hadn't crossed paths with you since everything settled down and seeing you again recently prompted their actions."

“What makes you say you’re to blame?”

Prowl remained silent at first in the face of the question, but this time it was the silence of deep thinking. How best should he go about explaining himself? In the end, he decided to start by finding out what he didn't need to repeat. “How much do you know about how I ended up involved with them?"

“Some, but not the specifics," Jazz answered. Given how he'd withdrawn himself from command, he hadn't initially known anything about it, though he'd made a point of finding out what he could after the fact. “I know Bombshell got inside your helm and forced you to help Megatron with his plans. I know that he wanted to control Devastator himself but needed to be sure it would work, so they modified you to combine with the Constructicons as a test run." Anger and guilt built inside him, making it difficult to keep going calmly. “I know you're still bound up with them, even now that it's all over."

He let his gaze fall to the tabletop, unable to meet Prowl's optics. _I know that no one noticed you'd been compromised until Bombshell told them. I know I was too busy feelin' sorry for myself and willfully ignorin' what was going on around me instead of stayin' involved._

The ripples in the surface of his cube tightly gripped in his hands gave away the minute trembling in his frame, but his voice was even as he continued. “Gestalt tech ain't something I know a whole lot about though, so I don't really understand how it works between you all." Jazz looked up again. "Is it related to that?”

“Essentially,” Prowl answered before he hesitantly reached out and settled a hand atop one of Jazz's. He bid him a partial smile during a few moments of silence as he plotted out his explanation. There were many things he'd never planned to tell anyone about the situation, things he could mostly ignore as long as the rest of the team stayed in their own bubble and he in his until everything was truly calm again. They didn't have all that much in common, other than general oppression throughout the war, but it was nice knowing he wasn't alone and he probably couldn't cut their connection even if he wanted to try anyway.

“That first combination,” he began slowly. “When they first acknowledged and accepted me, it caused more than a few changes." Only now did he pull back his hand. “Among other things, I was pulled into the gestalt bond. While not a bond in the traditional sense, it _is_ still a link between all members. Due to the nature of combining, this one operates on the mental side almost exclusively and during combination everyone's mind is almost completely open for everyone else. Whether it's to improve synchronicity or simply how the connections developed, that is how it is. Some secrets can be kept and you aren't forced into looking through another's processor, but even if no one tries there can be carryover of thoughts and memories. For instance, I now know several insider's secrets on the construction of the Crystal City, for all the good that will do me with the city lying in ruin."

Jazz had stilled under Prowl’s hand, the small point of contact disproportionately comforting. He felt a bit self-conscious that he’d been visibly upset enough for Prowl to make that gesture, which seemed almost out of place for him. Whatever had prompted it though, Jazz was glad of it, and wished it had lasted longer. Even after Prowl drew back, Jazz still felt better and more relaxed as he listened.

It was fascinating, if one looked at it from a purely objective standpoint – that kind of information sharing and synchronization was incredible, and there were numerous advantages that Jazz could see just from the brief description. Prowl probably saw the advantages too; if it wasn’t such a personal violation, he would likely be among the first to be finding ways to make use of it. Although…

“I doubt you haven’t thought of and done something already about the potential security risk there, given the nature of the files you keep.” Jazz said, frowning slightly. “Sounds kinda invasive and unwelcome, even if it can sort of be blocked and the sharing isn’t exactly deliberate or directed. Can you tell _specifically_ what they’ve picked up from you, or are you just figurin' it's likely they got _something_ and aren't sure what?”

“It's not much more invasive than being cabled together with someone and both secured and hidden files remain as such, but you are right in that being one of my initial concerns." Prowl exvented softly. “Not that it mattered much at the time as I'd been under another's control and thus had no secrets that hadn't already been potentially revealed."

“Fair enough," Jazz acknowledged a little sadly. “Bombshell did a lot more damage with what he found than anything the Constructicons might have done. Like I said before, they're not _bad_ mechs; no more than any of us are, anyway."

Prowl looked down to his cube and the only part of him that moved for almost a klik were his doorwings, flicking occasionally as he thought. Should he share that it didn't actually feel invasive at all when they were together? That for all their major and obvious differences, they managed to fit together perfectly and near seamlessly on the few times they'd been combined? Or even how nice it was to be completely accepted by several individuals who had seen exactly who he was and how he functioned? How could he explain what it felt like after so long of putting up a front to hide that very knowledge and being hated for it, to have anyone learn the truth and like him for that? If anyone could ever understand, he was sure it would be the mech seated across from him. They too had been more similar than their outward differences would suggest, for all that they had never completely shared their true selves with one another.

In the end, he decided to skip all of the confusing emotional aspects in favor of the facts. “There is no way to know what they might have seen or accidentally accessed, much as I doubt they know what I know. Honestly, I don't even know what I got from them until I realize there's no way I could have known something myself. Perhaps if I had been paying attention at the time, but I was preoccupied with making sure they had no access to important files and data."

Prowl’s wings twitched a couple times as he realized that could be construed as suggesting he found Jazz unimportant. That was the only sign he gave of discomfort however. Perhaps he would be lucky and Jazz wouldn't even think of that possible meaning.

He needn’t have worried. Jazz had far too many other thoughts to distract him from taking any offense. He had been hesitant to ask Prowl about his situation before because he didn't know how Prowl felt about it. Accepting, ambivalent, angry - any of those reactions was within the realm of possibility, and Jazz didn't want to guess wrong and upset Prowl by sounding too negative (or not negative enough) on his behalf. Then there were his own feelings about it, which weren't anything he wanted to discuss. He wasn't going to dump his issues on Prowl when the mech had been through enough already.

Though he seemed to be doing pretty well, all things considered. Even though he didn't say anything specifically, Jazz thought he detected the barest hint of fondness from Prowl as he sat thinking for a moment. Jazz wondered if perhaps, regardless of how it had come about, part of Prowl was _happy_ about it. He had been isolated, unsupported, unappreciated, and misunderstood by so many for so long… perhaps that was the real benefit to their bond, rather than any possible tactical advantage. Prowl could count on them to be there, in a way he hadn't been able to with anyone else. Even Jazz.

A new wave of guilt, this time accompanied by an unflattering tinge of jealousy, washed over Jazz. _Not important and not your place. Forget it. Prowl still wants to be friends with you, and that's more than you hoped for or deserve, so don't blow it!_ He subverted it and schooled his features into a neutral expression. "That's gotta be strange, knowin' stuff without knowin' _how_ you know it," he said. "Guess that means they probably don't realize either, huh? If they get stuff from you, it just feels like they've always known it to them."

That realization made things suddenly make a whole lot more sense. “Might explain why they're actin' so familiar," Jazz said. “They're still strangers to me, but they feel like we already kinda know each other, cuz of you." He smiled. "We've known each other and worked together for ages, after all."

“Quite possible," Prowl agreed. “The regular persona you wear around most is a deceptively simple bot to get to know. Or at least to believe you know, even through just some patchy memories." That wasn't the strange part. The strange part was just how many of those traits had a basis in a more real version of Jazz. True, Prowl didn't know Jazz to his core, but he used to think at one point that maybe he knew the actual mech closer than any other online bot did or ever could. That had been almost half an endless war ago plus nearly the entirety of the short span that followed, which somehow already seemed nearly as long. Things had most certainly changed, as they are prone to do.

“Naturally, they couldn't know any more than I ever have about you and they may not actually know much at all. Unfortunately I have no way of knowing how much or what they do know barring the need to combine,” Prowl said. “If we did, I could run a search specifically for anything involving you. Even then, however, there are no guarantees I would find everything they've each learned about you from what little I know."

“You know a lot," Jazz said, the words a gross understatement of reality. Prowl was the one mech who, by virtue of the depth and length of their professional association, had managed to get to know Jazz personally as well. He had seen his genuine fears, cares and concerns over the many, many vorn, and he'd seen the facets of his covers that stayed consistent, based in truth rather than being pure smoke and mirrors.

It had frightened Jazz when he'd first realized how well Prowl knew him. Eventually, however, he'd found that he both trusted Prowl with that knowledge and depended on his having it - there had been times where Jazz had felt Prowl knew him better than he knew himself, and had leaned on him to find himself again in the dark moments after the worst of missions. He'd been sorely missing that safety and comfort since Earth…

“I don't know that I like the idea of them knowin' as much about me as you do," Jazz murmured around another sip of his drink. “I… trusted you with some things I don't really want shared around."

Then a sudden thought had him jolting upright in his seat and almost spilling the rest of his cube. “Wait, if you combine again, could they - could they see what happened the other night?" His pump was hammering in his chassis at the idea. It was bad enough he'd made a fool of himself in front of Prowl, reading too much into the mech's drunken ramblings and making the embarrassing personal admissions he had out of deluded hope. There was no way he wanted any of the Constructicons, let alone _all_ of them, finding out about it too! Prowl at least had the good graces not to make an issue of it, aside from the slight awkwardness Jazz was hoping would diminish as the incident faded into the past, but there was no such guarantee with the others.

Prowl was nodding in response to the statement about trust when Jazz jerked up. His words were a genuine concern and so Prowl gave them proper consideration. “Unfortunately, I cannot definitively promise that they will never see it but the odds are slim we will have any need to combine again. Additionally, I can put that memory behind extra firewalls. I believe the trick is securing them with a passcode rather than simply locking them to me, seeing as the connection technically makes us one mind. I know it is not much, but it is the best I can offer at present."

Jazz fought to clamp down on the surge of paranoia still threatening what calm he'd managed to regain. “Okay. Okay, that's cool." His voice sounded a bit strained. “I feel a little like we're not alone in the room all of a sudden, but it's cool. If you say it's not likely and that you think you can safeguard it, then I believe you… I trust you."

Right in that moment there was a part of Jazz that _didn't_ trust him, but the rest of him knew that if something happened, it wouldn't be Prowl's fault. He really could be trusted to do everything possible to prevent them from seeing it, and there was no reason to think otherwise. The fear that insisted it wasn't safe to confide in Prowl anymore, that anything he told him could wind up shared with all of the others and used against him was hard to put out of his mind though.

He sighed. “War's over, right Prowl? There's no reason to be so nervous about them, yeah?"

“No, there shouldn't be," Prowl agreed. “But that doesn't mean you have to like it. Even I occasionally find it hard to accept that I'm not always alone in my processor, so why should I expect anyone else to?"

As much as he may have trusted that Jazz wouldn't share this information with the masses, he'd also known it was a gamble unlikely to end in his favor in other ways. The odds had always been so low as to be nearly nil that Jazz would be able to trust him to the same extent as before, once he knew, but the alternative was worse. At least being the one to explain it meant he had the chance to try and help Jazz understand. There were always going to be aspects that didn't sit well with anyone accustomed to, even intensively trained for, keeping secrets. Especially when those secrets could mean the difference between survival and losing the entire war.

“I do trust you too," Prowl continued. “Which is a large part of why you're the only one I've shared this with. I know you won't try to find any way to use this against me nor attempt to instigate anything should you inadvertently come up with any ideas. However, the most important factor is that you deserve to know. I hadn't thought about it before our previous meeting or I could have mentioned it sooner, and for that accidental betrayal of trust I do apologize."

“You couldn’t have expected you’d need to explain so soon,” Jazz allowed. “And neither of us expected the other night to be as heavy as it was,” he mumbled almost inaudibly before grabbing his cube and tossing back the rest of its contents and continuing at a more normal volume. “I’m glad you told me now. And yeah, I’m not gonna share or do anything with what you’re tellin’ me about you and them, but I’d like to understand a little better how it works.” He looked pointedly at Prowl. “I _need_ to understand how it works.” 

He hoped the former tactician would appreciate that protocol-driven necessity. Jazz wanted Prowl back in his life – Primus knew he wanted Prowl back in his life – but the five giant green and purple tagalongs were something he hadn’t considered before. He needed to feel he was on stable ground again before he could proceed, which he wanted to do, but in order to get there he needed to know, _really_ know, what he was dealing with.

 _And dealin’ with this’s the last thing I’m up to right now_ , Jazz thought. He felt tossed around and unsettled, and he needed to step back and think for a bit to center himself before continuing this conversation. He didn’t want do anything in his current mindset that would make things worse. 

“Gonna need to be headin’ back onstage now though,” he said, pushing back from the table and standing. “Skybyte’s wrappin’ up.” Which was true, Skybyte was nearing the end of his set. Technically Jazz didn’t have to follow him immediately, but it gave him an excuse to buy some much needed time. “Can we talk more later?” he asked.

“Of course," Prowl replied calmly, knowing it was an escape attempt but letting it go. He might not have been able to pinpoint how he knew but he might have consciously forgotten some of Jazz’s tells. That didn't matter though. What did matter was that he knew how to proceed with the knowledge. He could have argued a reason for Jazz to stay or to wait but that was certainly the very worst idea. Well, trying to restrain him forcibly was probably the worst actually, but he wasn't foolish enough to even consider that.

All in all, it was for the best that he let Jazz leave. He was hardly inclined to do anything else presently anyway, but there was one unusual aspect his processor nudged him to follow up on even as he was offering a good bye.

“Did you still want me to message you when the boards are ready?" Prowl asked as he stood also. “We could set a first game night at that time then?"

“Yes,” Jazz said gratefully. He’d been worried Prowl would call him out on the rather lame dodge, and even more worried he wouldn’t be willing to talk later because of it. If he still wanted to set up their game night, however, then perhaps everything would be okay after all. And he did want to pick up the board - it would give him a chance to talk to the Constructicons and start getting to know them a little better. He wanted to believe Prowl about them, but seeing was believing, as the saying went. “I’m cool with pickin’ it up, and then we can figure out when and where to hold the inaugural game!”

Jazz led Prowl back out of the employee area to the main room where Skybyte was just delivering his last stanza. “You should stay and have that flavored cube, if you’ve got time,” Jazz said over the applause, laying his fingers briefly on Prowl’s arm as he turned to head over to the stage stairs. “Thanks, Prowl.” For coming, for explaining, for not pressing, Jazz didn’t specify. 

He pulled away and turned his attention to his performance when Skybyte ceded the microphone, once again using his music as a shield. It was certainly serving him well in that capacity tonight.

“You're welcome, Jazz."

It didn't matter that Jazz was too far away and the audience too loud for him to hear. It also didn't matter whether he responded or not. It was saying the words that mattered.

After a short debate, Prowl ultimately decided against staying. The offer was tempting and he would have greatly enjoyed listening to more of Jazz's music, but he felt he had intruded enough for the evening. Plus, if he didn't try that energon yet then he had a reason to come back another time. Conversely, if everything fell apart completely between them then at least he wouldn't know what he was missing by avoiding the bar altogether in the future.

He did, at least, let the first song end before making his way out, hoping that the applauding crowd would be enough distraction for the other black and white to cover his exit. It was doubtful, but that was all the more reason he should leave. Staying would only result in him remaining a distraction for Jazz and that was unacceptable.


	7. Gestalt Mechanics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the moment everyone's been waiting for...
> 
> Prowl and the Constructicons get together to talk. Surprising revelations abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering, here's the code system for conversation methods:
> 
> "vocal"  
>  _thoughts_  
>  ::comms::  
> / _gestalt bond_ /  
> [text comms]

It started as an annoying buzz in the back of his processor during a briefing but steadily grew throughout the orn. Prowl waited until he eventually found a few free kliks then dragged the sensation out into the foreground of his mind. It resolved into ‘voices’ that were more feeling than words and it overwhelmed him for a few nanokliks before innate understanding took over.

It was his team, unsurprisingly, and they were excited over something. It was the first time he had felt them without seeking them out specifically, and very much the first time the link had allowed for actual communication and not just vague awareness over such a distance. It still wasn't much - he got their surprise at him addressing them through the link and they clearly heard him speak. It was however, very foggy and it gave him the start of a processor ache to hold onto the connection so he simply informed them he'd see them soon and let it fall back to a lesser processor thread.

It didn't even occur to him until he was headed their way that he hadn't even asked where they were.

❧

On the whole, the Constructicons were happy with their new situation - due to the initial shortage of medics at the end of the war, Hook had been designated a section of the city to provide medical care for. It had held very little at first and as time went on it remained one of the slower growing areas so his time was easily split between medical work and construction projects, which, on a post-war Cybertron, there were _plenty_ of in all shapes and sizes. 

One of the first projects in their area had been a moderately sized medcenter, but due to the lack of patients the majority of it served as the team's current home while they finished work on their own. Illegal? Perhaps in another time and place. But there were no specific laws against it yet and Hook wasn't the only medic practically living in his medcenter. It made for amazing response times and no one was fool enough to try and make Ratchet move out of Iacon Primary.

It was there, in Hook's medcenter, where Prowl knew he would find his team. Right where they had been when they inadvertently contacted him. Stepping through the main entrance revealed no one out front, but Prowl wasn't overly concerned. They were sure to notice him soon and even if they didn’t come out to meet him he could always go looking for them.

~

In one of the workshop areas at the back of the facility, five frames stilled in their activities for a moment as they all felt the arrival of their sixth. Scavenger made a start for the door, but Long Haul reached out to hold him back. “Don’t go running off, just wait for him.”

“Yeah – the prototype’s here, anyway. We need to talk back here, not in the lobby,” Bonecrusher added, though he’d stopped working and pushed away from his bench too, as had Mixmaster.

“Sit back down,” Hook said, never looking up from the delicate gear assembly he was cleaning. “He’ll call if he can’t figure out where we are.”

An anxious anticipation wove its way through their link, origin point unidentifiable and irrelevant. They were all nervous to see Prowl and feel out his reaction to what had just happened – as far as they were concerned, it was a good thing that’d they’d been able to talk to him the way they had, but the Praxian had a tendency to be reluctant and needed more time to adjust to new developments rather than just accepting them. Pressing him about it only made him close off and pull away from them.

That was not what they wanted, so they waited, focusing instead on their eagerness to discuss their latest project. It had pleased them all to have Prowl ask for something like this, something not work related, though Long Haul kept insisting that they really should also make him a new desk. Hook was tempted to agree, since the one he had wasn’t really ergonomically optimal for his frame, but it would be an invasion of Prowl’s space and privacy to do so unasked and so he had repeatedly nixed the project. Mixmaster had gone ahead with testing compounds for a more comfortable chair anyway, but that was easily enough explained away if Prowl ever saw it, and useful for other things in the meantime, besides.

~

After waiting a klik and not sensing any of them moving, Prowl began to make his way further into the building. They weren't trying to mask their presence so it wasn’t difficult to find them (barring one wrong turn and subsequent backtrack). A moment of hesitation paused him outside the door he needed, but he had nothing to fear from the mechs within and he strode into the room completely at ease.

"Boss!" Scavenger's exclamation greeted him almost before his first step over the threshold. Both he and Bonecrusher came forward to meet him, though neither moved to obstruct his path.

Mixmaster waved from his workstation. "Glad you were able to make it," he said as he began capping the numerous small canisters scattered across his table. Some would dry out if left open while they talked, and others would be really inconvenient to clean up if they spilled.

"We had an idea," Long Haul started to explain before Hook picked up the thought, finally looking up from his work. 

"We wanted to run it by you first though, since it wasn't in the original specs you asked for."

Prowl had been offering greetings back to the first two mechs when Hook took up the conversation from Long Haul and curiosity had him shifting to look that way almost before the purple and green mech had said a word. In the past, he might have found that strange but the as time went on Prowl had grown to almost enjoy the feel of being part of the collective. Still, he was the outsider, the interloper in their connection with too much individuality still to feel like he would ever fit in as seamlessly as they did. Times like now though, when he could feel their thoughts and practically read minds, which he could literally do if he opened his end of the link, his processor reminded him as an added detail to keep the facts accurate. It was times like this he nearly forgot why he chose to lead his life almost completely separate from them. 

Then he would remember his job and reconsider. Prowl had no innate aptitude for either construction or repair work, and nearly the entirety of his knowledge of either subject was made up of occasional details accidentally gleaned from the team. Over time he would probably pick up more from them and maybe eventually know and understand it all well enough to actually use it, but that didn’t change the fact that he had no interest in it. He was not going to give up his own work so it was best to leave them to themselves and keep to his own life as much as possible. He still fit in there marginally better.

For their part, the arrangement with Prowl living and working apart was mostly agreeable to the Constructicons. They knew he would be as aggravated without his work as they would be without theirs. While they would have liked to have him around more it didn't bother them that doing things this way meant it would take longer for him to fully acclimate to the bond. They were confident it would happen eventually, so they didn’t mind letting Prowl take things at his pace. In the end that would minimize setbacks and make it take less time overall.

Hook frowned slightly. "Are you getting a processor ache?" he asked.

"Not presently," Prowl told the team medic, which was true as the one that started earlier had vanished on his drive over. "Nor many recently, and the couple I have experienced had causes I could easily identify and deal with. Why do you ask?"

"It felt like you might have had the beginnings of one earlier," Hook told him. "Glad it didn't settle in."

"Ah." He should have known that was the root of the questioning. He hadn't expected they would pick that detail up though, and Prowl certainly hoped he hadn't actively projected his pain unintentionally. "I believe it was simply the strain of the distance is all," he explained without elaborating. It wasn't as though it was needed.

The fact that they had been able to speak over such distance at all and Prowl didn't seem to feel it was that unnatural had the Constructicons grinning mentally at each other, and some literally behind their face masks. Between that and the great idea they'd had regarding the game board, they were all in high spirits.

"So what is your idea?" Prowl asked, moving on and using a plural group pronoun indicating all five of them.

"We came up with a way to include even more games than you originally asked for!" Scavenger answered first for all of them. "They make these combination game things on Earth that have ten or more different games, and we thought we could do something similar."

Bonecrusher nodded. "Some of the games are simpler, but they won't really take up much more space and it makes it fancier."

"And some of the patterns on the boards look really cool," Long Haul added. "Especially since Mixmaster's been working on getting some new alloys for color variation."

"Without it being overwhelming." Mixmaster held up a cautionary finger. "That’s important. It's supposed to look elegant." He sounded very proud, and that same sense of pride was shared among the whole group. That, and the desire for approval and feedback. "We've got the prototype completed - Hook was just finishing up working on the trigger mechanism for folding out the larger grid to accommodate a full sized game of Go."

"It's completely mechanical," Hook said. "There won’t be any computerized parts or an AI to play against, and it’ll have to have physical playing pieces. We could try to work out a way to have it generate holographic pieces if you'd prefer, but actual pieces would be more true to the Earthen origins. Plus, that way you won’t need to worry about powering or charging it."

"We had only discussed a simple version with the two games but now you have me curious." Cautiously, Prowl allowed his end of the team link to open as he continued. "You may show me your intentions for the final product, if you wish."

It took the Constructicons a moment to realize what he meant, but after a brief pause the link was flooded with their combined presence. The first impression to hit Prowl’s processor wasn’t an answer at all, but rather a wordless expression of _right_ and _happy_ as their minds surged forward to meet his fully. Then came what might have been an attempt at an explanation that was somewhat jumbled as each of the Constructicons projected a portion of their collective process regarding the prototype, nearly all at once and largely without words.

They had considered several different Earth games, though not all had made it in. Games like Risk and Dominion had been rejected for needing too many additional pieces or cards. Small numbers of pawns or dice, however, had been ruled acceptable, and a backgammon board with its two rows of 12 decorative vertical points on either side of an elaborate dice field and the brightly colored Parcheesi board Scavenger had been fascinated by were challenges Mixmaster was looking forward to. The image of Earthen boards with intricate wood inlays hovered behind his concept of the same done in metal alloys, representing an incredible amount of work. His thoughts for a third board with spaces arranged in a six-pointed star were beautiful as well, and the ideas for the final/original gridded board were no less artistic, despite their simpler nature.

Hook had put no small amount of thought into the engineering for that board, working out a way for the grid to expand from a starting 8x8 square for Othello up to a full 19x19 for Go or Pente, stopping at increments along the way at 9x9 and 13x13 for variations and at 16x16 for tafl. The other boards did not need to be able to resize and could sit on static bases, but the backgammon board was also multipurpose, being suitable for either narde or tabula as well as its namesake game. 

The inclusion of dice for some of the board games made additional games possible that required no board at all, though all five mechs were aware that games of chance didn’t appeal to Prowl as much as games of strategy. Still, having the option for things like Yahtzee and Farkle was yet another added bonus.

While the others were focusing more on the boards, Bonecrusher and Long Haul had been working out the logistics for the pieces. Most of the games required a much smaller number of pieces to play than the two 180-piece sets of solid black and white stones necessary for a full game of Go, though Othello could not reuse those and would require its own separate set of two-sided pieces so they could be flipped. That set would have enough pieces that two players could reuse both colors for halma, and two additional sets of double-sided pieces in other colors would allow for the four total players in a traditional square game and six in stern-halma on the star-shaped board. 

They’d come up with a design consisting of a box that would double as a stand for the interchangeable boards with compartments to contain all the different sets of pieces for the various games, plus smaller spaces for the Parcheesi pawns, the special king piece for tafl, and the dice similar to the way the multi-game sets from Earth that Scavenger had looked up were configured. The vague notion that a set of chess figures could be added as well hovered at the back of someone’s processor, though it was impossible to make out whose.

There were times when Prowl was exceedingly grateful for the processing capacity he had in terms of sheer volume. Whenever the gestalt bond opened was one of those times. The shift from sorting only his own understanding of the world to sorting through the input of six different frames and minds, five of which were, outwardly at least, far different from his own, always came as an exponential increase. He could handle it, especially in a closed area with limited stimuli, but it was always better to be braced for it.

Shunting aside the emotional aspects immediately, as well as whatever seemed classifiable as ‘stray information’, allowed him to focus sooner on the purpose of allowing the mental intrusion. The rest would be sorted and analyzed along sub-threads while his processor remained predominantly concerned with the game board designs. 

To their credit, the team were getting better at offering their separate thoughts clearly. Or perhaps Prowl was just coming to understand them well enough to distinguish where he couldn't before. In either case, he could clearly pick out points that originated in or had been elaborated upon primarily within each of their minds for most of the information he received.

Prowl had to admit, to himself and likely across their shared connection by accident, that the amount of consideration they had put into the project was impressive. It was also a slight bit disconcerting. There still seemed to be quite a lot of work remaining between their desired end result and the flashes of current work they unintentionally offered combined with what he could see on the table, prompting his inquiry.

/ _Just how long will it take to complete?_ / Prowl expressed across the link. / _We had been thinking_ ,/ hoping, his mind corrected, / _that it would be complete soon_./ Jazz slipped into his thoughts unnoticed as he continued along the natural line of reasoning, tied to the ‘we’ in his sentence. Along with the question came his own assessment on how long it seemed that a finished product would take to achieve, offered up for debate and correction.

There was a sense both that their estimated time table was not as long as Prowl’s, but also that they were considering his calculations.

/ _Well_ ,/ Mixmaster started, / _the time it’ll take to cast and finish all the pieces is unavoidable, but we were going to work on the box and the components to assemble the boards at the same time._ /

/ _The mechanism to expand and collapse the grid is in the prototype for final testing now_./ A feeling that this had been the component Hook was the most concerned about in terms of getting the project completed in a timely manner accompanied his words. / _It’ll probably need a few minor adjustments, but it’s almost ready. It came together faster than I expected it to_./

A ripple of an idea sped around them and crossed through Prowl’s awareness as well – perhaps they could complete the pieces and their container with just the originally planned gridded board and the others could be finished at a later date? Decorating those would be the most time consuming part of the process, and a lot of that work relied entirely on Mixmaster to begin with. There was no way for the others to do anything until he had finished creating all the alloys to decorate them _with_ , which would bottleneck the project if he ran into any unanticipated problems.

/ _Doing that would give you the two games you originally requested and still have some extras_ ,/ Long Haul pointed out. / _We don’t want you make you wait longer by adding the other stuff, we just want to make it really nice_./

/ _Yeah! After all, it’s for you_ ,/ Scavenger chimed in, ‘you’ encompassing both Prowl and Jazz. There was an eagerness from all of them over making something again for Jazz knowing that Prowl had been the one to ask for it and would be enjoying it as well.

/ _What would the be the estimated time frame for that suggestion?_ / Prowl questioned. / _And to what degree of accuracy?_ /

Absently he noted their underlying thoughts. It was unusual to be experiencing how they felt concerning another mech, especially when he himself shared several of those feelings and opinions. There had been no direct mention of Jazz at any point however, which led him to concern over just how much he might be unintentionally projecting. It had to have originated from him as Jazz had just been in his thoughts nanokliks prior.

He made absolutely no mention of those thoughts however. Rather, he continued without acknowledging the tangent. / _I was planning on having another pick up the finished product and I would like to be able to share the correct date_./

/ _If you give a date one decaorn from now, it should be done by then_ ,/ Hook said. / _I’d estimate a couple orn short of that for actual completion, but a full decaorn gives a buffer for unexpected interruptions_./

/ _Yeah, if we have a big project come in that takes priority, we won’t have as much time to dedicate to it_./ Long Haul didn’t seem to be anticipating anything in particular and neither were the others, but he wanted to be sure Prowl knew they were taking it into account.

Their combined processors ran the numbers much the way Prowl himself would before Bonecrusher articulated, / _Barring anything major, a decaorn’s probably accurate within a 5-8% margin of error_./ He didn’t say, and the sense was very faint almost as though they were trying to mask it, that even if something major came up, they would put in a considerable amount of effort and even overtime to see the board finished on time anyway.

Offering wordless acceptance of their estimation and reasoning, Prowl turned his attention temporarily to writing up a short text message to pass along the date and coordinates of the medcenter. As an afterthought, he added in directions through the building to the workshop as well.

/ _I assume the pick up point will be here then?_ / he questioned before even adding the recipient. There was nothing to be gained in sending inaccurate information and requiring a follow up message to correct details might be seen as attention seeking.

/ _Yeah, at least one of us’ll be here_ ,/ Scavenger confirmed. / _So who are you going to have pick it up?_ / He sounded disappointed that Prowl wouldn’t be coming by for it himself but tentatively hopeful over who the other might be.

Prowl paused a moment to consider his wording before he answered. / _If he consents to it, I intend to have Jazz stop by to collect it. That may also allow all of you a chance to interact in a controlled environment_./ Because he had no doubt that they would all be there now that they knew who would show up. / _If you are amenable, that is_./

/ _ **YES.**_ / Immediate and complete consensus flooded from all five Constructicons – yes, it was all right for Jazz to be the one to come get it, yes, they wanted a chance to talk to him, and absolutely yes, all of them would be there.

/ _Do you think he’ll do it_?/ Bonecrusher asked in a rush, skepticism mixing with overtones of anticipation. /You said before we came on too strong./

Mixmaster and Scavenger both fidgeted slightly, worrying whether they could make a better impression this time. Hook was more composed, but he was clearly just as concerned as they were, particularly since he’d been the only one to actually speak to Jazz so far. Had he said something that had ruined it for them? Was it too late to fix things? Uncertainties flew between them all as they waited on Prowl to answer.

Their response had been so staggering that it had taken Prowl a moment to collect himself and his thoughts before he could focus enough to check his message a final time. Then it was another moment as he sent it off and turned his processor to his team’s concerns. Most were completely valid possibilities with only the occasional absolute absurdity spawned-and-gone so quickly he couldn’t track the source. It didn't matter anyway. Their true concerns and even several considerations that hadn't occurred to them could be handled with the same basic advice.

/ _The lot of you **did** come on too strongly,_ / Prowl explained. / _No one tends to respond to such well and with his work during the war is it any wonder he would be suspicious?_ / He offered up memories of images and broadcasts he knew had been public knowledge among the Decepticons to remind them just how important Jazz had been, and just how badly he'd been treated the rare times he had been captured. He had other, more powerful memories that illustrated those points but he kept those guarded carefully. Jazz wouldn't want him to share even memories of moments that just the Autobots had been aware of, much less anything Prowl alone had been trusted to see or know.

/ _ **If**_ ,/ and Prowl stressed the word after letting them think over that information for a while. Hopefully it would also be a reminder of just who they would be dealing with and his capability to stop them if the need arose. Just as hopeful was he that there would be no need for such… / _If he does choose to show up then you are to let him lead the situation. If he avoids a topic then leave it alone. If he doesn't want to do something, do not attempt to force him. You may point out interesting features of the board but do not overwhelm him. One speaker at a time, and preferably one per topic. Few mechs find it comforting to hear a sentence split across two or three speakers. Do you all understand all of this?_ /

There was a long pause as each of them took the time to consider Prowl’s words and what he’d shown them. Stray memories floated to the surface of past experiences with Jazz from the Decepticon’s perspective, though none were particularly long or detailed. As a unit, the Constructicons hadn’t had anywhere near the amount of interaction with Jazz during the war as some of their former comrades. They had all heard a fair share of the rumors though, and the reminder seemed to draw them up short with a profound sense that none of them wanted to provoke him to use any of his considerable skills on them.

We didn’t forget any of that./ Which was true as far as it went. / _We just…didn’t exactly think about it either_./

/ _Yeah_ ,/ Mixmaster agreed. / _If we had, we might’ve been a lot more nervous to do what we did_!/

/ _You only say that because you aren’t the one he caught first_ ,/ Hook snapped.

Bonecrusher laughed. / _Scared you, did he_?/

/ _I wasn’t scared_!/

Scavenger cut in before they could really get going, though they’d probably still have it out later in some fashion. / _Okay, so if he agrees to pick up the board we follow his lead and don’t all talk at once,_ / he repeated. / _We can manage that._ /

/ _Good_ ,/ Prowl replied. / _Above all, allow him to retain as much control over the situation as possible. His skills mean he has it anyway, so you will do best to show him that respect._ /

And then a thought filtered up into his processor. It was one he'd had before, drawn back to his awareness by the subtle and not so subtle fear some of their memories had carried. He didn't really intend to ask the question, but his mind betrayed him.

/ _Why Jazz? What made you so interested in him anyway?_ /

The responses, after another brief pause, came back with layers of confusion.

/ _Why would you need to ask that_?/ Scavenger asked. In his mind Jazz was clever, adaptable, marvelously capable, and completely worthy of their admiration.

/ _Why wouldn’t we like him?_ / Mixmaster followed. A vision of Jazz floated in the back of his thoughts, plating sparkling like the twinkle in his visor - the mech was attractive!

/ _We’ve always liked Jazz_ ,/ Long Haul said, though his words slowed as he spoke while he pondered a shape, a presence that had always been there, could always be relied on to be there, wavering with Jazz’ silhouette. Had that really always been in their minds? Long Haul turned to Hook. / _Haven’t we_?/

/ _I thought so_ ,/ Hook said carefully, turning the problem over in his processor and pulling up more memories of Jazz, searching. It wasn’t something they had looked at or questioned before. It had just _been_ , something they all felt and agreed on, simple as that.

/ _I never meant to imply it was wrong_ ,/ Prowl said as he shared in the memories and examined them as well, sorting through for relevant data. / _It simply seems to have come from nowhere, especially since all of you were on the other side of the war._ / He was both curious about the topic and curious how they felt, although he did feel a momentary flash of guilt over worrying that they might have less than honorable intentions aimed at his friend. 

In his defense, he quickly attached the fact he would consider the possibility regardless of who they were as well as countless suspicions regarding Sideswipe and Sunstreaker when they'd first tried getting friendly with Bluestreak. It wasn't information he deliberately broadcast, but it was offered should they want to see it.

The Constructicons chuckled when they felt Prowl’s concern, but it was good natured and accompanied by warm acceptance. It wasn’t offensive to them that Prowl would consider that angle; that was just Prowl. Prowl thought of everything! It would only have been a problem if he didn’t believe them when they protested their innocence, and despite a there-and-gone flicker of less-than-innocent fantasies, there was no desire on any of their parts to force Jazz into anything he didn’t want – even conversation.

/ _We respect him too much for that_ ,/ Hook said simply. / _Even if we didn’t, you do, and you’re the Boss_./ Why that mattered went unsaid, but not unfelt. There was as much respect for Prowl in their processors as there was for Jazz, if not more.

That respect for both of them predated the end of the war, though before it was paired with fear rather than affection. The change in how they felt about Prowl had come, unsurprisingly, when they had first merged and shared minds. How they felt about Jazz, on the other hand, had changed…

Dates and times flashed by, memories tagged almost fondly with Jazz’s name. All were from after the war, nothing but recent history. Finally, the stream of memories stopped on an overheard conversation: they had been laying the foundation for a new living complex, having finally cleared the lot of the ruined shell of a building that had been standing on it before. Then, a voice like music called their attention to the street. One by one they came to look over the fence and saw Jazz talking animatedly with a courier just outside their work site. They listened until the two said their farewells and watched as Jazz, with style and grace, shifted into alt mode and sped away. A desire to follow him, to seek out his company and draw his attention saturated the file.

/ _Was this the first time you felt like this?_ / Prowl asked, reviewing the memory with them.

/ _Yeah. First time for me, anyway_ ,/ Mixmaster said.

/ _Me too_ ,/ Bonecrusher seconded. One by one they all agreed - it had all stemmed from that moment. / _I just didn’t notice before because–_ /

/ _–it didn’t feel like the first time **at** the time,_ / Scavenger finished.

/ _But why not?_ / Long Haul asked, perplexed.

There was a long moment of silence as they thought hard about it. Then, slowly, shock began to break up their confusion as the only possible answer presented itself. They all turned to face Prowl, regarding him with surprise.

/ _It started with you,_ / Hook finally articulated their realization. / _Maybe the better question is, when was the first time **you** were interested in Jazz_?/ 

Five faces looked down expectantly, waiting for an answer. For Prowl, the scrutiny was nearly unbearable. Even though it wasn't entirely intentional, they had put a lot pressure on him with that question. He held his ground physically but mentally retreated far enough to put up a block on his end of the link. Only absently did he notice that he hadn't sooner. Where usually the block was a wall, this time it was the equivalent of a drawn curtain; just enough to protect him and his thoughts as he dealt with that revelation.

Of course he knew he liked the other former Autobot, and in the safety and privacy of his own processor he could even admit to harboring deeper feelings. He did desire Jazz, and desired to be with him, and even to give himself over to the other. It was no secret in his own helm, and yet it was also one of his most closely guarded secrets. A personal secret with nearly the same security level as his professional ones during wartime.

And still, it hadn't been enough.

Granted, security levels worked differently when it came to their team link and he had already been forced to modify several restrictions but he had never imagined they would have found _that_. As much as the question was truly unnecessary, he asked it to put some distance between himself and the truth. 

"How did any of you come to have that knowledge?" He spoke out loud because at least vocally he ran less risk of embarrassing himself further, barely realizing it had to be a conscious choice after speaking so much over the link.

The Constructicons had pulled back their presence as Prowl drew into himself, still solidly there but apologizing for the inadvertent intrusion by giving him space to process. Among themselves, however, the link remained fully open and active with a flurry of thoughts buzzing indistinguishably between them.

/ _Those feelings really did start with him, didn’t they_?/

/ _How did we not notice before_?/

/ _Because he always keeps himself so closed off. Why would we think it was from him_?/

/ _Yeah, he is really private about personal stuff._ /

/ _Did that make you curious enough to go looking?_ /

/ _I didn’t go looking!_ /

/ _Well **someone** went looking!_ /

/ _Maybe you thought he wouldn’t notice_./

/ _Oh, come on, I know you think I’m stupid sometimes but I’m not **that** stupid_!/

/ _Anyway, none of us would ever-_ /

/ _ENOUGH_./ Hook exerted a measure of control over the chaos and the maelstrom of thoughts quieted just in time for them to hear Prowl’s spoken question. Responding in kind, Hook continued out loud as well. “We weren’t looking for it,” he promised. “But we’re not really sure how it happened either.”

“We didn’t actually know that was how you felt until just now,” Scavenger said, shuffling in place somewhat uncomfortably. “I mean, we didn’t know we knew. We just thought that we felt that way.”

Long Haul leaned back to think. “So, we weren’t trying to pry and you didn’t send it on purpose.” He paused, looking at Prowl for the unnecessary confirmation. “Didn’t think you had,” he continued. “If that’s the case though, how did we wind up sharing it?

Prowl's processor had already begun tackling the question even before he'd asked it and now the results were finally coming back. He took a few moments to go through and then only hesitated for a couple moments before drawing back the metaphorical mental curtain to offer them the results he'd analyzed.

"Given that none of you seem to have felt this way until after we'd combined a few times, I can only conclude that the two must be related. I certainly picked up bits of knowledge that there is no way I could have had otherwise so it stands to reason that the same is true for the five of you. If we're going about this logically, and you all claim honest innocence, then this is the most probable answer." His speech was calm and collected even though he felt anything but. Rational discussion about facts and numbers helped, but not by much in this instance. It was another reason he remained speaking rather than returning the conversation to their link. At least outwardly he could hide his feelings, even mostly from his team as long as they didn't go looking.

Following Prowl's calm approach to the subject, though they were concerned he was more unsettled than he was letting on - memories of how disoriented he had been during and after those early combinations rose to the surface and were pushed aside - the Constructicons examined the possibility.

"Ye-es, you're probably right," Hook said. "You likely shared information with Devastator, and then we wound up taking it with us when we broke apart."

"We're used to sharing things that way, but you weren't. There was a lot of stuff jumbled all together from the first couple of times." Long Haul looked around at the others. "I'm still finding an occasional stray data packet."

"Me too," came the consensus.

"It was a difficult time," Prowl admitted slowly. It was the truth and they all knew it, but that didn't make actually saying so any easier. "Anything I shared was quite probably unintentional and, admittedly, undesirable on my part to share. What's done is done however, so all we can do now is move forward and handle each situation as it arises."

That didn't help the situation about Jazz, but at least there was now a contingency plan in place for any future information related incidents. And on the subject of Jazz… 

"I would be highly appreciative if that information did not get out," Prowl agreed, "so I would ask for your discretion." The next thought was such a natural continuation of his own stance that he didn't even register he had said it until the words left his vocalizer. "We have only just begun to reconnect. It would be extremely ill-advised to rush into saying anything that might scare him away for good."

"Of course, Boss," Scavenger said, trying his best to sound reassuring. "We don't want that either." His words carried a double meaning. They didn't want to run Jazz off for Prowl's sake because his friendship was obviously important to him and they didn't want to upset Prowl, but they also didn't want to chase him away from them. As much as Prowl was hoping to reconnect, they were still hoping to make a connection of their own and didn't want to mess up their chances.

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," Mixmaster said. "Especially not Jazz."

"Is that what the board is for, then?" Hook asked. "To help you reconnect?"

Prowl's wings twitched in surprise. While a fairly obvious leap of logic, he still somehow hadn't anticipated the others reaching that conclusion. Or at least not for them to question him about it.

"I'd like to think we began the process already," he said in answer to Hook's question. "But having predetermined evenings set aside as time to spend together can only assist that process now that our lives are so separate. Thus, his suggestion of a 'Game Night' can only be beneficial, but for that to occur we do need the related game boards."

"Oh?" Long Haul's tone was a mix between curiosity and something almost teasing. "His suggestion, was it?"

"Guess he wants to reconnect with you too," Bonecrusher said as amusement branched through the link. They all seemed to think that showed definite interest on Jazz's part. Games like these were a largely solitary activity; if a social mech like Jazz had been the one to bring up the idea of spending time alone with Prowl, it could only have been because he liked his company.

"Hope we still have a chance then," Mixmaster muttered, not doing much to disguise the apprehension in his voice. If Jazz was taking an interest in Prowl, did that mean he wouldn't be willing to get to know them as well? The two former Autobots had a lot more history together, and better history at that.

Prowl could catch traces of concern slipping past the mental curtain and didn't poke at them, but he could tell there were definitely thoughts of how close he and Jazz might have been in the past and might yet get. Surely they were exaggerating the speed and extent of any such connection though, right? Then the memory bundle he'd been ignoring from their overcharged night together floated back into his active processor. He contained the groan as he realized that he really did need to check through that. It was not a thrilling thought however, given what he could remember of his own actions, but even now his curiosity and need for information was overruling that embarrassment.

That was not a task for the present moment in any way however so he pushed it aside with a timed tag to return when he arrived home. "Regardless of what potential interest you think he may have," Prowl said, dismissing the topic for the moment, "he still wants to be able to trust the five of you if our friendship is to continue where it left off."

“If he's willing to get the board, we’ll be careful," Hook assured him. "We'll make sure it's ready, just let us know who to expect." The fact that he and the rest of the team were hoping it _would_ be Jazz hovered at the edge of the link, unobtrusive but also undeniable.

"He is the only one I would send on this task," Prowl commented. "So if he refuses then I'll stop by myself. I'm sure he'll be the one however." He couldn't resist the slight chuckle that slipped out as he finished with, "I'd place statistics on it but he has always defied any odds I factor."

"Heheh, and I bet that drives you up the wall," Bonecrusher chuckled too. "Guess that just means you need to get to know him better."

"And so do we," Scavenger said brightly. "We need to get to know him and he needs to get to know us so we can _all_ be friends!" There was a dangling open-ended / _And then…_ / at the end of the sentence that didn't get spoken out loud. Any outcome beyond friendship was still too uncertain, and the Constructicons were even less able than Prowl to calculate the odds of any one over another and they knew it.

Hook surprisingly cracked the barest of smiles as well. "We're looking forward to it," he said, before getting serious again. "But if it's going to be finished in time and up to a reasonable standard, we need to get back to work. Thanks for taking the time to come look at it."

"Quality is of the utmost importance," Prowl agreed with both a nod and flick of his sensor panels, "so I'll leave you to your work. And in case I forgot to say so before, I do thank all of you for this. Now, if there's nothing else…?"

It was open ended but there was really nothing more for them to discuss and Prowl did leave once he'd received the go ahead from all five. It wasn't until he was at the front doors that he noticed he still had the team link open. Solidifying the proverbial mental curtain into an equally figurative wall, he isolated himself once more. He would need to be alone in his mind for the task he was very much not looking forward to that was waiting on him to get home. 

As the thought entered his processor, so too did the reluctance-born idea of visiting the bar, and hopefully Jazz, first. If the other was there he could confirm that he had received the message regarding the board and possibly get his answer sooner, but he knew that would really only be another delay tactic. No; better to handle this as soon as possible.

It was time to head home and review those memories. Finally.


	8. A Friendly Exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jazz's turn to chat with the team. What surprises and troubles await him this time?

A couple of blocks from Hook’s medcenter, Jazz checked his chronometer before flipping out of altmode and transforming to land at the side of the street. He’d been speeding without meaning to, and walking the rest of the way would keep him from arriving too early and give him a moment to contemplate the upcoming meeting.

He was much calmer now than he had been at the bar when Prowl had explained just how the connection between him and the Constructicons worked; at least, as far as he understood it. The revelation that they were not just a permanent part of Prowl's life, but a much closer and more complicated one than Jazz had expected had been a lot to take in, and he was grateful for the intervening decaorn to start getting used to the idea. He hadn't been sure that he _could_ get used to it, at first, and it wasn’t even primarily because they were former Decepticons. The fact that they were _strangers_ , strangers who might have access to private, personal secrets that he had only ever trusted to Prowl, had loomed much larger in his thoughts. Jazz didn't like the idea of having a conversation with them where they suddenly brought up something they shouldn't know like he’d confided it in them as bosom buddies.

 _Honestly, I’d prefer blackmail_ , he thought, laughing at himself for it as he came up to the building. It was a function of, well, his function. Threats were something he knew how to deal with; personal intimacy wasn’t. But if he was going to achieve any level of intimacy with Prowl, even just reclaiming the close camaraderie they’d shared during the war since it was all the mech seemed inclined towards, then he was at least going to have to manage to get used to the idea of being around and talking with the others comfortably.

 _Only fair to give it a chance. And who knows? Maybe we’ll hit it off even better’n me and Skybyte_. Not that he expected to, but… Prowl was worth it. And they could always surprise him. 

It wasn’t much longer before he arrived. Reaching the door, Jazz knocked lightly on the frame as it swung open and he crossed the threshold. “Hello, hello! Anybody home? Or are all y’all hidin’ in the back?” he called.

"You're early."

The words were spoken from off to the right and had the slightest note of questioning to them. It wasn't even two kliks before the anticipated time, but apparently Hook thought it was worth remarking on. "We were led to believe you more often arrive late." And yet, he was here waiting ahead of time anyway. 

Hook was the only one present out front, taking the time to reorganize a few things to better suit his preferences while he waited, but the others were just as anxiously waiting in the back. He had won both the argument to have all but one of them remain in back and the right to be the one to meet Jazz at the door. Of the five of them, he was the only one who had past experience speaking with their visitor and was one of the few who knew how to be at all tactful in general. They didn't want to scare Jazz away at the door, or put him in a bad mood before he even saw the game board.

Jazz laughed, putting that worry to rest at least. "Nice to know Prowler speaks so well of me, spreadin' rumors about my tardiness. But he's wrong - I'm always on time," Jazz said, grinning self-indulgently. "Can’t be late if the party doesn't start till I arrive, after all." He watched the other mech as he joked, trying to gauge his reaction. He knew that Hook was generally a serious mech, and if humor was going to annoy him more than put him at ease, that would be a good thing to know. Even if he didn’t significantly alter his behavior, regardless.

 _Kinda defeats the purpose of gettin' to know each other if we ain't actin' like ourselves_ , Jazz thought. "Where’s the rest of the gang? Puttin' on a few last minute touches?"

Hook wasn't sure how to respond to the jest, so he ignored it in favor of answering the only real question Jazz had asked. "The rest are in back, yes. If you'll follow me, I can show you where they are."

Hook didn't quite wait for Jazz to reply before crossing the lobby to the hallway beyond. There he opened a door off to the side and allowed Jazz to catch up before leading him through it. The hallway was long with no doors until the very end, letting out directly across the hall from the entrance to their workshop. It wasn't the quickest route unless the building was busy, but it was the most direct and easiest way for another not to get lost. Meanwhile, Jazz began running an automatic background process as they walked, counting his extra steps to keep pace with the taller mech's longer strides as it mapped their progress and made notes of what minimal features there were in the hallway. It would be easy to retrace his steps, though there were obviously other ways through the facility as well. 

"The project grew as we planned it," Hook shared as they walked. "And with," there was a momentary pause here but it almost was unnoticeable, "Prowl's approval we've expanded on the original idea to include numerous games of Earth origin across several boards. It will be a while before the product is fully completed, however by his request we do have something prepared to the original specifications we were given."

"Oh?" Jazz looked up at Hook, genuinely interested. Prowl hadn't mentioned any of that to him; perhaps he had wanted it to be a surprise. Not that they'd had much communication where he could have brought it up. The message telling him when and where to pick up the board hadn't had a single spare glyph in it, and Jazz hadn't heard from or seen him other than that since the night he’d stopped by the bar. Maybe he thought Jazz needed time alone to think… which he had, at first. Jazz had thought telling him that he was willing to pick up the board would have indicated to Prowl that he’d decided to try to make this work though, and hoped he would have called after he sent the confirmation.

Setting that disappointment aside, Jazz focused on Hook's words instead. "That sounds pretty neat. You’re familiar with Earth games then?" Entertainment culture wasn't something he'd had the Constructicons pegged for any interest in or knowledge of, Earthen or otherwise, but Hook’s phrasing made it clear it had been their idea to add on to Prowl’s initial request.

"There wasn't always much to do in between the various grandiose death machines Megatron wanted built," Hook replied just before getting hit by the excitement of the other four as they reached the workshop. He managed to continue, and it was almost clear that he was attempting a joke of his own. "We had to find some way to occupy ourselves."

A sharp huff of air through his vents accompanied Jazz's smile at the joke with an ungraceful sound. "I can believe that," he said, squashing down the urge to say any number of uncomplimentary things about Megatron and his death machines. "There's worse ways you coulda kept yourselves busy." There was a difference between a pursuit made out of boredom and one of passion though, and Jazz found himself wondering how much real interest they had taken in the subject, or if it had merely been a diversion at the time that was proving unexpectedly convenient now.

Then Hook opened the door and they stepped inside the workshop. Jazz took in the other Constructicons, most of whom were either already looking up or did so immediately as they entered. Jazz waved at them, mentally snickering at their poorly disguised attention. _Credit to the ones at least pretendin' to be workin', though_. They waved back with a range of energy from Scavenger's enthusiasm to Long Haul's near-hesitance. Mixmaster, who had actually managed to get a mixture going as they waited, only gave an abrupt nod since it began to boil right as he looked away from it.

None of them said anything, however. Jazz let his optics shift beneath his visor to each of them in turn beneath his visor as he turned his face visibly towards Hook. "So, you said you were adding some things. What were you plannin' on?" he asked.

For his part, Hook never broke gazes with where he assumed Jazz was watching him. "We have a long list of games we hope to include eventually. We have been updating it as certain things proved to be more or less feasible, but for now we just want to show you what we have built so far. It’s not exactly the same as the plan we showed Prowl when we discussed it with him, but he did say he trusts our judgement for all additional games."

"Wow! Prowl left the details up to you, huh?" Hook seemed proud of that fact, and rightly so. Jazz, already aware of their level of skill, was even more curious now to see what they had come up with. "I know you all do good work," he said honestly, "so let's see this thing! Show me what you got." He angled toward Mixmaster, tilting his helm in the direction of his project. "Unless you need a klik to finish that first? Wouldn't want to be distractin' you and have somethin' go wrong," he said. “Shades of Wheeljack." His tone was light, poking fun at the engineer and the trained responses anyone who worked with him developed.

"It should settle soon," Mixmaster commented without even looking up. As much as he might have wanted the excuse to check out the smaller mech, this was more important. True to his word, the bubbling soon ceased, allowing him to turn towards Jazz finally. "Now that that's done-" he began but was cut off by an overly enthusiastic Scavenger.

"Here it is!"

While Jazz had been focused on Mixmaster and his project, the other four Constructicons had gathered around one of the other tables. Scavenger was already eagerly pointing out the box that was the only object on on it before Mixmaster could make his way over to join the rest of the team.

"It's not the most detailed piece we have planned," Long Haul commented, "but it has everything the boss asked for and more." Those with visible mouths were smiling at that, pride in their expressions and in their conjoined fields.

Hook took up speaking again as he began to point out some of the design features. "There will be multiple boards that will be interchangeable and fit directly on top of the storage unit," he explained, detaching the current one to show how. "The locking mechanism," which was a built into the pattern along the upper edge of the box, "is here and it releases like so. Besides being a stand for the boards, the container holds the pieces for your various games. They’re already all there, including the pieces for the boards we have not yet finished because those were the simplest components to make."

Jazz let out a low whistle as he stepped up to the table, resting his hands on either side of the box and leaning in for a better look. "Looks like a lot of work went into this already. And you say it's not finished? There's going to be even more?" He drew back as Hook demonstrated how the top came off, glancing at it before deciding to look at the box first and peering at the contents. Reaching in, he carefully began lifting out and arranging the layers of interlocking interior compartments one by one in front of him.

The Go stones came first, the numerous smooth, rounded pieces separated into the two identical halves of the first layer, which was designed to come apart so each player would have their own container during game play. Unpainted, they were cast in solid metal of uniform color throughout so that even if the stones eventually acquired chips or scratches, as might happen with frequent use, their appearance would not be excessively marred. The black stones were dark and glossy and the second set, while not the traditional pure white, was made of a pale alloy in a very near approximation of the shade with a faint opalescent sheen.

Jazz stirred the 'white' stones with one digit gently and listened to the soft clicking sounds as they rolled against each other before picking one up to examine it more closely. "It's like an oil slick," he commented, turning it so the light played off it.

Returning it to the pile, he moved on to the next layer. This one was a tray partitioned unevenly into three segments that did not come apart spaced around a solid center. A retractable decorative knob popped up at a touch in the center to make it easier to pick up. The largest held the flatter two sided pieces in the same black and white as the Go stones for Othello, while the two smaller segments were filled with additional two-sided markers in gold-and-silver and copper-and-bronze. All were highly polished and sparkled as Jazz spun the tray on its rotating base. "Colorful, but classy," he said, pretending to watch as it wound down and stood still again to check the position of the mechs around him. His proximity sensors told him without looking that they were close, and he didn't fancy any of them coming around to watch over his shoulder and trapping him against the table. None of them looked like they were going to move however, which was reassuring.

He couldn’t know the five Constructicons were too busy watching him to even think about moving. Other than Hook, who stood at the side to Jazz’s right, they were all spread along the opposite side of the table across from him. As the smaller mech's interest and excitement seemed to grow, so too did the excitement and cheer across the team bond. They remained silent outside of it, however, no one daring to distract Jazz as he thoroughly examined their work. After a while they even began sharing what his various expressions looked like from each of their individual angles, absently discussing and debating who had the best spot. There were no clear winners and everyone liked someone else's angle better at some point.

The final layer at the bottom of the box did not lift out, though there were fixed dividers between an assortment of plain removable containers. These proved to hold the shaped figures of a chess set resting in molded foam, the tall table-men and king-piece for tafl, and angled rows of the shorter colored pawns used in Parcheesi. Two different colored sets of dice in tumblers were tucked into the corners, winking up in bright green and purple.

"Couldn't resist, huh?" Jazz asked when he saw, a grin breaking out on his face. "That's fantastic!"

Hook was the only one who had remained focused enough outside the group gossip to immediately respond to Jazz's comment. "The green occurred accidentally while Mixmaster wasn't even attempting to prepare colors and Scavenger was the one to notice it was a close approximation to our own paint color,” he revealed. “It was Bonecrusher's suggestion to utilize it in this project. We decided to try keeping it as unobtrusive as possible because the colors don't match well with the rest."

"It's a nice personal touch," Jazz said, fishing a die of each color out and holding them between his fingers side by side, looking between them and the gathered mechs for comparison. Unaware of the mental chatter going on over his head, he could at least tell he had their full attention by their expressions and frame language. The intensity of their stares felt a bit odd - it didn't feel like they were looking at him to size up a potential enemy, the way Jazz was reminding himself not to look at them. If anything, it was more along the lines of how he'd been looking at the box: admiringly.

 _Just like Hook that night in the alley_ , Jazz thought. _I don't mind attention or admiration. I just don't like not knowin' what’s behind it or where it's goin_ '. But probing for motivations wasn't supposed to be the point of this. The point was just to test the waters and chat a little bit, to start getting to know and used to being around each other. Shunting aside several suspicious threads in his processor to deal with later, Jazz regarded Bonecrusher appraisingly. "I think it was a good idea. Like an artist's signature on a painting."

He gave the dice a trial roll; five and two. "Anyway, I think they look fine! Unless they clash with one of the boards or something," he amended. "Speaking of which, I still haven't taken a look at the one you said was done!" Scooping the dice up to deposit them in the box, he turned back to Hook, who was still holding the board. Looking at it in his larger hands, Jazz noticed belatedly that the set was scaled perfectly to him and Prowl. _Well of course it is! Prowl's the one who commissioned it and they knew who it was for!_ "It’s the first of how many?"

Pulled from the continuing internal debate over just what feature was Jazz's best, Hook answered the question directed at him slowly. "Presently we expect a total of four, but this one will offer you both games originally requested as well as several more. This is also the most complex one, technically speaking."

Turning the board carefully over, Hook located and pointed out a pair of nearly imperceptible buttons on either side of one corner. "What you see now is the smallest form. By pressing and holding these you can adjust the size of the board." Righting it again, he set the board down and put one palm atop it while his other hand sought out the buttons he had just indicated. He pressed them together and turned his hand slightly, causing the board to expand in an outward spiral to include another set of squares in the grid in such a way that, once it stopped moving, it appeared as though it had always been that size. 

"Everything is fully mechanical and designed so it can be shifted from one extreme to another or you can stop at one of the variants in between for other games. Simply release the buttons to lock it at any size. The smallest is the 8x8 for Othello, then a 9x9, 13x13," he spiraled the board open further to each as he spoke, "16x16, and finally the full 19x19 for Go." When the final configuration settled into place the nine star points at their intersections became noticeable, standing out against the other intersections on the grid. "In this way you have in one board the capacity for Go, Othello, pente, tafl, halma, even checkers or chess. As well as any other games you can think of that use a square grid of any of these sizes. Additionally, the frame underneath the expanding section remains the same so you can resize the board while it’s attached to the base, if you want to elevate the playing field. It is also perfectly balanced to use on its own like this too, of course."

Jazz's visor brightened as he watched the board shift through its size settings, the movement perfectly smooth and quiet all the way up through to the largest setting. "I'd wondered how you could possibly have one board for both Go and Othello!" he exclaimed, reaching forward eagerly to give it a try himself. "I thought you'd have to make a 19x19 and cover parts of it, maybe just use a corner of the board or something for smaller games. This is so much cooler!" He shuffled it slowly down and up through the settings, pausing at each stage to take in the subtle changes in the board's appearance that accompanied each change in size.

Whether pieces were played on the intersections of the grid lines or within the squares formed by them, no decoration was strictly necessary for any of the games Hook had listed. That hadn't stopped the Constructicons from creating a kaleidoscope of geometric tessellations with the subtle texture and minute color variations of the tiles that made up the board. Each setting had tiles appearing or disappearing along the sides, and those that remained rotated to create new patterns in the interior.

"This is incredible - I keep seeing more the longer I look at it, but it's not so distracting it’d make the games hard to play!" And it wasn't; at each size, the lines of the grid between the tiles were clear and distinct, easy to see and follow despite the variations of the squares themselves. The detail held even in high resolution as Jazz enhanced his optical pickup, finding that in fact there was a faint alternating scheme to the squares on the chess-sized board, and the layout for tafl appeared along the central rows and around the edges also. Even the decorative border, its geometric simplicity matching that of the board, changed slightly with each expansion! 

Jazz realized he'd gone silent, shifting the board back and forth over and over while staring in amazement. He forced himself to stop and look up. "And you say this," he said, resting one hand on his hip and pointing to the board with the other, "is just one of _four_ boards?"

"Yes, though the decorative elements of this one were more of an afterthought, to fit in better with the rest of the set when we found there was enough time to do so.The other boards are deliberately more ornate," Hook told him.

"It didn’t turn out half bad, if I do say so myself," Mixmaster commented, despite their arrangement that Hook would handle most of the conversation to make it easier on their guest. "I was experimenting with different alloy shades and Long Haul got bored with the extras after Hook finished the technical side."

Scavenger couldn't keep quiet either, piping up next. "What do you think? Do you like it?"

"Do I like it?" Jazz repeated. "Mech, it's incredible! Yes, I like it. Not what I expected at all, but I like it!"

The same could be said for this meeting, really - not what he'd expected, but in a good way. _Ain’t like it could have surprised me in a bad way_ , Jazz conceded mentally, _since I was expectin' it to go bad, or if not bad, at least to be really slaggin' awkward._

He glanced back up at the mechs around the table, all of them intent and eager but respectfully keeping their distance and patiently giving him time to inspect the board and ask questions. Well, relatively patiently. Scavenger was shifting his weight somewhat restlessly, which Jazz's protocols were tagging confusingly as an indicator of both possible aggression and harmless excitement. His profiles for them were all tailored to their behavior and responses in combat. The lack of data in a civilian setting had Jazz's processor sending frequent requests for better intel even as he recorded new observations and updated his files to allow for better assessments.

 _Shame I can't just meet mechs and make new friends without havin' all that runnin' in the background,_ Jazz thought with a bit of a sigh. It wasn't really a drain on his systems, and the state of alertness it created wasn't one Jazz minded, per se. That was fortunate, since any time he encountered a former enemy, an unknown neutral, or even a friend who had changed significantly since the war's end, he went through the same routine. But even though it didn't inconvenience him, the fact that he needed it was frustrating at times. _Everyone's adjustin' faster'n me…_

He shook his helm. Dwelling on it wouldn't do any good, and he knew the real reason he was more on edge with this meeting than ones he'd had with other former Decepticons, even ones more dangerous than this crew! It wasn't just his own well-being riding on a positive outcome this time, and the pressure not to mess this up and ruin his chance to reconnect with Prowl was very present at the front of his processor. _Feels like I'm meetin' his family and need 'em to like me so I can keep seeing him,_ he thought. And then laughed.

The audible sigh and laugh that had accompanied his thoughts led perfectly into what he said next without betraying their real direction. "Did you really think I wouldn't?" His tone was lightly disbelieving. "I can understand bein' nervous to show off something you put this much effort into - Pit, I get nervous when I debut a new original song! But y'all always struck me as more of the confident type."

"We're not nervous," Bonecrusher interjected before grumbling. "This is just important…"

"Yeah!" Scavenger added. "Usually we don't care if anyone likes it but this time it does matter."

Hook sent a chastising burst through the gestalt bond before resuming his role as the speaker and attempting damage control. "What they're trying to say," his tone was rough here, though it wasn't directed towards Jazz in the slightest, "is that we do know we do good work and usually that's enough. But because of who this project is for, we are for once concerned with how it will be received. Your enthusiasm is appreciated."

"It always makes me feel better to have an appreciative audience when I'm performin' regardless of who it is," Jazz said. "But I get it meanin' more when it's someone whose opinion really matters." He didn't say ‘someone like Prowl’, though the words were on the tip of his glossa.

That thought made him wonder. Jazz knew that he would care more about what Prowl thought of a song he'd composed for him than the crowd's response to any regular old tune, having accidentally tested that the other night. Given his position as their 'boss', Jazz would have thought Prowl's opinion would be the most important to the Constructicons, too. Especially in this case, since the game board was a commission from him. But Prowl had already told them he approved of their plan and trusted them with it, so there was no need for them to worry on that score. Plus, Hook had just said they appreciated his enthusiasm… and technically the board was for them both.

"My opinion matters that much, huh?" he asked, still speaking lightly even though he very seriously wanted to know the answer. “How come?”

Hook didn't immediately have a reply for that and the other four visibly glanced between one another. A nervous tension settled down around them as they shifted into an internal debate. Some liked Scavenger's idea of just sharing everything, which Long Haul and Hook both had to point out was contrary not only to the boss's desires, but also his advice.

The discussion continued for a couple kliks before Mixmaster pointed out that they still hadn't answered Jazz's question nor replied to him at all. That broke their chatter up and everyone turned their focus outward again when Bonecrusher made a comment about risking their chance by ignoring the mech.

"We don't have answer for you," Hook finally answered. "Not one that can be shared right now anyway. This project just demanded joint approval."

It was Long Haul who spoke up unrequested this time. "The boss likes it but he also wants you to like his gift. Especially since he only saw the designs and the finished product is never exactly the same as the plans."

The nervous energy hadn't completely vanished but at least now it was mostly contained in their massive collective EM field as they waited for Jazz's reaction.

Watching them hesitate and clearly debate their answer to get only a partial explanation wasn’t exactly comforting to Jazz. He frowned slightly, knowing there was more to it than they were saying. _Even if what they said wasn’t suspicious, that EM field just screams, ‘We’re hiding something, please don’t ask’_.

Keeping his own EM field free of his frustration and projecting only continued curiosity and a little bit of disappointment, he of course asked anyway. “Oh? Is that all?”

A ripple went through the gestalt link and slipped into their shared field but Hook came down on it as he spoke. "It is all that we are allowed to say." He passed a chastising pulse through the link at the others before continuing. "Prowl advised us on how to keep from scaring you off, although only some of us seem to remember that." The last was directed at a few members in particular and he glanced their way as he said the words.

"Scaring me off?" Jazz repeated. _That_ was certainly interesting. So was the thought that Prowl had actually given them advice about what to say to him. Jazz was torn between feeling strangely elated that Prowl had enough interest in them getting along to do something like that, and annoyed at him for meddling. It didn't help him if they were only saying what Prowl told them to say! Or at least, trying to only say what he’d told them was okay, though in truth the fact that they were making the effort at all said a lot regardless of whether or not they succeeded. It showed that they respected what Prowl said, and that was a good thing. Jazz felt a bit better about Prowl's situation with them at that, even though he was starting to get a bit of a sinking feeling in his spark regarding his own.

"Well, you haven't managed to scare me off yet, so he can't get mad at you for that," he said, banishing the surprise he hadn't quite managed to keep off his face. "I'd hazard a guess he wouldn't be thrilled to know you'd just told me that, though." Because really, _telling_ him Prowl thought they would scare him off? There was no way he wasn't thinking about the possibilities now, and the one that was most likely was the one he'd been trying his hardest _not_ to think about.

Hook had the decency to mostly manage an ashamed look. It was probably tied to the embarrassment accidentally leaking now through the gestalt bond. _That_ prompted a curious poke from their distant sixth and just this once Hook was glad for their link with him still being weak; it offered him the option to pretend he hadn't felt the faint questioning. Instead, he gathered himself to respond. "No, he likely wouldn't. He doesn't get mad at us though," he said. "It's more like exasperated."

"The boss actually _likes_ us," Mixmaster chimed in, comparing him to other commanders they’d had in the past. "That makes it harder for him to get mad at us."

"Harder, but not impossible," Bonecrusher muttered from beside him. 

"Heh. Lucky," Jazz remarked, remembering numerous times when Prowl had gotten mad at him in the past. It wasn't a pleasant thing to be the focus of his anger, and Jazz didn't actually wish it on the Constructicons. _Doesn't mean I'm not gonna ask Prowl about this to spare them though_ , he thought resolutely. _And if he doesn't answer either, then_ I'm _the one who's gonna get mad._

"Well, if you can't tell me that, can you at least show me the plans for the other boards? Or are they supposed to be a secret until you finish them?" he asked, changing the subject. He started putting the pieces back inside the box, carefully fitting them all back together.

That caused a nervous shuffling amongst the four behind the table but this had a more embarrassed air to it. Still, Hook hesitated for a moment as they allowed Jazz to finish up his task before responding. "We would show you that," he explained slowly, hoping Jazz would actually believe him. "But we only rarely keep physical copies of our plans, and the files are really large…"

The suggestion that came next was unbeknownst to Jazz just as unappealing to them as it was to him, but it was an effort to be courteous. All five stiffened slightly as Hook made the offer. They knew enough of Jazz's skills to know it was potentially dangerous, though they were gambling on him not wanting to go through with it.

"The only way you could see is if you wanted to plug in for a copy."

Jazz froze momentarily, his initial reaction a blend of horror and revulsion. He clamped down on his EM field so hard that his armor flattened defensively too, and he cringed internally as he felt the plates click together. There was no way they hadn’t seen that, though Jazz could tell that they weren't exactly comfortable with the idea either, even though they'd been the ones to broach the subject.

 _There's more of a risk to them than me if I say yes_ , he rationalized even though just the prospect of a hard line connection between them had several _very_ unfriendly protocols spinning up in his processor, ready to be deployed. _I'm the better hacker and we all know it_. Which begged the question - why were they offering? And they were _offering_ , not insisting, which argued for them genuinely meaning to use the connection only to share the file even though Jazz could decide to use it to go after the other answer they'd refused him, or worse. Viewed in that light, it was a truly remarkable concession… but not one Jazz was ready to take them up on, for all their sakes.

"That," he said carefully, "is very generous of you, but I think I'll pass. I'll just enjoy bein' surprised when they're done."

There was no missing the relief in their merged field and the way some relaxed their stances and others shifted. They weren't thinking about that though, being simply grateful for the reprieve.

Hook was the only one who maintained any proper composure. He had hoped his guess would prove true and it had. It would maybe be okay for them to express gratitude over the other not pressing the issue but they didn't want to admit to not liking the idea of even their crush (not that they would call him such to his own faceplates) entering their processor. They had never liked allowing others into their shared mentalscape but they were especially leery after the nearly endless war and all the horror stories about hacking as well as working around a telepath. And besides, it seemed he was far less interested in it than even they were so mentioning it once more would only create more tension. Time to put that awkward offer behind them all. 

"Are you intending to leave now then?" he asked simply.

Jazz followed their example, letting his plating loosen again as he drew in a deep vent and let it out quietly. _Wow. That actually worked out okay_ , he thought, glad that the tension seemed to be draining as quickly as it had appeared. "I wasn't sure how long this was gonna take," he admitted, shrugging both in answer to Hook's question and to finish settling his armor comfortably again. "I've still got a little time before I need to head back out." As tempted as he was to take the out and make his excuses after that, he didn't want to leave on such an uncomfortable note.

He reached out to trace the designs along the edges of the board delicately as he searched for a neutral topic. _Hmm… speakin' of bad notes, I wonder…_ His hand stilled and he looked back up at them, realizing a possible opportunity. "Say, I don't suppose any of you have an idea what I might sub for the old VCOs they used in synth-harps, would you? The components in 'em, I mean. Something that can generate the same waveforms, but isn't as rare as what they used in the good ol' days is now."

The group silently conferred for a moment but there was a very quick consensus this time - on a couple of things, but only one warranted being spoken. The boss would not like it if they shared with Jazz how pretty he looked when something had his interest or how distracting it was to watch him run his digits across the board or anything like that. Though they all had trouble not extrapolating that action into a very pretty image of a far less innocent move than simply stroking the box they had put so much effort into…

"What material would that be?" Hook asked, pushing any other thoughts (and images) away for the time being. "Our knowledge doesn't extend that far into instrument making but if you only need the base components then we might be able to help."

Jazz hadn't expected them to be familiar with the particular device in question, but he was pleasantly surprised they hadn't just shut him down with a curt no. "I've got what I need to create the oscillator circuit itself, but not the resonator," Jazz elaborated. "The old ones used a piezoelectric crystal with a really wide frequency range that stayed accurate all the way to the ends as you went up or down, but I haven't been able to find more than a handful of pieces of it since I started looking." He frowned, remembering. "Most of 'em were flawed and useless, too. I need something else with the same kind of precision, and enough of it to experiment with."

He grew more animated the longer he spoke, unable to stifle his enthusiasm. "I'm tryin' to improve the design, see. Synth-harps use a series of oscillators to generate and mix sounds, and there's no need to mess with that part, but if I could put together a better oscillator? Something that can reliably produce clearer frequencies, more reliably, and that'll last longer?" He crossed his arms under his bumper and huffed with clear irritation, presumably over the longevity of the current oscillators he was using. "Constantly havin' to replace burnt out bits between sets gets old real quick. Plus, the number of redundant backups you need to keep it from tappin’ out in the middle of a performance is too cumbersome. Keeps you from streamlinin' the instrument, you know? You should be able to make the instrument look as sweet as it sounds! And no one's gonna want to learn to play something that's bulky, temperamental, and needs a lot of fiddly maintenance."

The stream of words paused just long enough for Jazz to reach into his subspace with one hand. Raising it up, he showed them the tiny component resting in his palm. "Actually, on the subject of fiddly maintenance - if you can make a better capacitor than this, that'll help just as much as findin' a replacement crystal for the resonator. These things degrade far too quickly, especially if you subject 'em to too many changes too fast. They can't cope and fizzle out, and once they've lost the ability to hold a charge they're useless." 

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling as though looking back in time. "I've asked a few others about these, but they just told me this's a frivolous thing to be wastin' high-quality micro-components on when our production of things like that is still so limited." Which Jazz understood, intellectually. It was why he hadn't really pushed with Perceptor, or Wheeljack, or any of the others when they'd refused him, even though their answers hadn’t been what he’d wanted to hear. "The reconstruction comes first."

Logic did nothing to quell the passion in his spark, nor his belief that music was anything but frivolous.

"Is that a functional one we can test?" Long Haul spoke up. "Or do you have the exact specifications you want for us to work to?"

There was an excited buzz building anew, almost noticeable in their stances and field. Jazz was requesting a project. _Jazz_ wanted _their_ help! That was at least as exciting as the boss asking for a present for him.

“Uh, hang on, this one’s dead,” Jazz said, reaching once again for his subspace and fishing for another. “Here, this one works. For now,” he muttered. “Far as specs go, this’s pretty much what I need, just better - still small, but more durable and more capable of holdin’ up to changes in voltage and temperature. And preferably able to survive gettin’ dropped on the floor off a workbench, though I ain’t askin’ you to find a way to make ‘em live through bein’ stepped on.”

He looked down at the capacitors in his hand. _I could just put them down on the table. Or…_ his gaze flicked up under his visor, watching them watching him. Feeling almost as though he needed to prove something after backing down over the hardline, if only to himself, Jazz held them out instead, waiting for one of the Constructicons to make a move to take them. “You can have ‘em both, I’ve got others.”

There was a brief hesitation where no one moved as the Constructicons considered whether his offer was genuine and safe. _Well now,_ Jazz thought with some surprise as he waited for them to take the capacitors. _And here I was figurin' they'd be more eager than nervous_. He had to smother the giggle that tickled at the corner of his mouth over the irony. _I wasn't certain of the things they were leavin' for me at first too. Maybe now that we've all proved we're harmless, we can all stop seein’ each other as quite so dangerous_.

At last Hook took a half step forward and reached out carefully to take the potentially delicate components. At least that's how he would explain it, if questioned. There was definitely a healthy caution centered around the reality of contact with the former spy that their fantasies casually ignored.

Hook stepped back after collecting the items that looked practically insignificant in his hands. Stepping back also gave him a bit of perspective on the situation again and worry gave way to rational thought. It would be at least impractical if Jazz was intending to injure or incapacitate them to use such tiny things. The area of effect certainly couldn't be too wide.

"Until we've run some tests on various materials we can't give you any sort of estimate," he informed him. "When we do have something definitive for you we can let you know. Do you have a commline frequency to share or would you prefer for us to inform Prowl and he can contact you?"

"I'd appreciate it if you looked into it. No rush or anything," Jazz said, relaxing mentally even though they couldn't see it. "And yeah, sure, let Prowl know and he can pass it along. If you're able to come up with anything, we can work out the details then." Exchanging personal comms could come later. Maybe.

Jazz watched them carefully while waiting for a response, and was forced to amend a previous assessment he hadn't even been consciously aware of - that the Constructicons were somewhat slow of thought. It wasn't that they had slow processors at all. They just frequently took time to discuss things among themselves before speaking. That occasionally resulted in delays, but it didn't mean they weren't smart or didn't understand things. The lack of any discernible radio chatter between them was misleading; they _were_ communicating, just not in a way that could be overheard by someone trying to listen in using traditional methods (and Jazz knew quite a few of those). The only way to detect it was to watch the minute changes in their expressions and fluctuations in their collective EM field, something Jazz had never realized or tried before.

He was trying now though. They didn't telegraph much, or at least, they didn't telegraph much in a way that Jazz was able to read. _That's a skill I'm gonna want to work on_ , Jazz thought. _And not just to read them…_ If they talked to each other that way, it only followed that they could talk to _Prowl_ that way, and he to them. If Jazz didn't learn what to watch for, they could be having whole conversations over his head without him even noticing! 

_Not that Prowl would do that_ , Jazz tried to reassure himself. _At least, not conversations about me. I think. I hope_. Work related things he could easily imagine the Praxian discussing with them while talking with Jazz or anyone else, his processor probably more than capable of managing it seamlessly and undetectably. Not that Jazz could break Prowl's encryptions when he sent off messages in his presence normally. He could at least tell he'd sent _something_ , however, even if not what and to whom. The thought that he might not even be able to tell that much made him feel very much like an outsider. Jazz gathered up the rapidly expanding cluster of threads in his processor fixating on that and quarantined it; he could work through those feelings later when he wasn't in company.

"We'll see what we can do for you and keep you informed when we know," Hook said finally, not quite repeating his previous statement while the others continued to talk among themselves silently, keeping them from interrupting him. Then he switched gears on the conversation. "Prowl's schedule seems mostly open this orn so you could show up and surprise him with this." The last word gained an indicating gesture towards the game set. "He hasn't seen the finished product yet and maybe you can drag him away from that desk. Whenever you decide you're done here."

There was a touch of hopefulness to his tone, most probably over Jazz deciding not to leave quite yet.

 _Just one more reason to talk to Prowl again sooner rather than later then_ , Jazz thought, happy to hear Hook reveal that Prowl might be available today. It looked like they were hoping he wouldn't take off right away, but Jazz really didn't feel like trying to drag things out with awkward small talk all that much longer, now that they’d gotten past the last rough patch. Better to let things settle a bit, then build on the foundation once it had stopped shifting so much under their feet.

"That'll be a challenge alright," Jazz said. "Pullin' that mech away from his desk is a mighty tall order, but I never get tired of trying. Sometimes I even win." He pulled the game set toward him, resting his hands on top of it momentarily. "I won't stand a chance if something else comes up and monopolizes his attention though, so I'm gonna try and sneak in now before that can happen." He smiled up at them, hoping they wouldn't take offense. "You mechs really do great work and I'm lookin' forward to seeing the rest of it when you finish!"

There was clear disappointment in their field and the droop in the stance of a few, even as they understood the desire to leave with no complications. It was offset by amusement though as Long Haul decided to sneak in a comment. "See if you can't convince him he needs a better desk to stay chained to."

"Other than that," Hook stated, turning a stare physically on his team mate, "it was good to see you, and especially nice to see you were so pleased with our work. If you need anything else, you know where to find us. One of us is generally always here."

Jazz nodded as he picked up the box. “I’m glad I came,” he said honestly. “Thank you for takin’ the time out of your busy schedule to show off a little.”

With a graceful spin he stepped away from the table, walking almost sideways to keep looking at them as he kept talking. “And thank you for being willing to look into the resonator replacements and the capacitors! I’m lookin’ forward to hearing whether you can help me with either of ‘em.”

Then, keeping his sensors trained to listen for anyone following him just in case, he took off quickly down the hall. None of them did. _You know somethin’?_ he thought as he reached the front door. _They ain’t all that bad. Still too soon to be talkin’ best friends or anything like that as far as I’m concerned, but… they’re all right._

Carefully subspacing the game set before transforming with his usual flair and style, Jazz took off down the road. He decided to forego blasting his speakers, however. He didn’t want to meet up with Prowl over being cited for creating a public nuisance, after all. Besides, he had a lot he wanted to discuss other than the board and the surprisingly good impression the Constructicons had managed despite their missteps, and he needed to get his thoughts in order without any further distractions.


	9. All Play, No Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz shows off the new game board, then he and Prowl set up their first Game Night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this update, your authors trade places. Rizobact is now back from her traveling vacation and I am about to head out on (another) one myself. Next update, I'll be married. Gonna be in Vegas so if anyone's close and wants to meet, just let me know. The fiance and I are always up to meet fans/friends.
> 
> ~Skylar
> 
> I'll be working on catching up on replies now that I'm back :) Congratulations to my awesome co-author on the wedding!
> 
> ~Rizo

_Shoulda gone around the city a few times_ , Jazz thought, lamenting the complete lack of order he’d managed to achieve in his processor on his way over. _That drive wasn’t nearly long enough_. With any luck though, it hadn’t also been too long. It hadn’t just been an excuse to escape when he’d told the Constructicons he needed to get to Prowl before anything else did, so despite not feeling completely ready he didn’t hesitate.

He felt a brief flash of déjà vu as he came up to the office door, game set tucked under his arm. Not too long ago he’d been here with a different box, one which had confused and, though he was loathe to admit it, almost frightened him. Still, that box had been instrumental in bringing Prowl back into his life, and for that he was grateful despite all the other complications… and disappointments.

 _He was still interested enough in doing game nights to commission the board, even if he isn’t interested in anything else_ , Jazz reminded himself. _So go in there and at least set up the first night. If he’s too busy to talk about anything else now, that just means more time to try to get organized_.

Raising his hand to the door, Jazz tapped out a rhythmic knock. “Hey Prowl! You have a klik or two to spare? I got somethin’ I need to show you again.” 

The door slid open and Prowl gestured him in with a soft smile. That smile slid into a frown though and he absently held up a hand to keep Jazz from speaking immediately. Several moments later he pulled out a datapad and plugged into it to upload the project he'd been working on. He stared at it for a few more moments after disconnecting before shutting it off but he did leave it on top of the desk. Finally then did he turn his focus to the other black and white for real.

"It's nice to see you, Jazz. I was beginning to think you might have opted out of showing up or had other plans."

“No plans other than picking up the board,” Jazz said, indicating the box. “Just got a little distracted talking about materials with Hook and the others. I did mean to be here sooner.” He glanced at the datapad. “You done with that? I’d like to talk about a couple of things, besides show ‘n tell here,” he said hopefully.

"Done enough," Prowl replied. "It's just plans for a training exercise I intend to put the new recruits through, and perhaps a few of our current officers. I'm quite capable of a conversation currently. Although I wasn't anticipating you would have multiple things to discuss. Am I wrong in interpreting your previous statement to mean things went well enough? Did something inappropriate occur?"

“We-ell, that sorta depends on your definition of inappropriate,” Jazz hedged, coming up to the desk and placing the game set carefully beside the datapad. “It mostly went well, really it did, but mech, let me tell you: you can _not_ rely on that bunch to keep a secret.”

"Which is why I never intentionally let them know anything that _should_ remain secret," Prowl replied with a faint smile. The fact that they did pick up on his biggest secret had been unsettling but it was hardly new and he did have control over what he shared when they weren't merged so there was no need for excessive concern presently. Caution certainly, but not concern. At least not over that subject.

“It was more amusing than anything else, but…” Jazz trailed off, drumming his fingers lightly along the edge of the box. “It brings up a few concerns.”

"What sort of concerns?" Prowl asked, his smile fading. "Do I need to speak with them about what is and isn't appropriate to say to a bot they have interest in?"

“Actually, I’m curious what you already said to them about what was appropriate. They wouldn’t explain to me why my opinion was so important, just said _you’d_ told ‘em not to scare me off, so now I’m wonderin’ just what were they gonna say that had you thinkin’ I’d _be_ scared off, and did you just say ‘a bot they have an interest in’? Interest as in the more-than-friends kind of interest? In me?!” The words came faster and faster the longer Jazz spoke, tumbling over each other as he struggled to reign them in. “That’s – look, I – slag,” he swore in frustration, bringing a hand up to scrub at his face. “How do we even talk about this?” he asked almost plaintively.

"I had assumed you knew as much already after the gifts they left. While admittedly they had no understanding of the severity of the final one, the sheer volume certainly suggested more than mere friendship." Prowl did take some pity on him in not pressing that part of the topic more. "I suppose I don't need to answer that question now as you answered for yourself. I simply advised them to avoid pressing the issue of liking you in any capacity beyond friendship for now. You did already show a highly negative response to any interest from them, especially the suggestion of a relationship."

“See that, right there, what you just said – _relationship_ ,” Jazz said, drawing the word out. “I knew about interest; what I didn’t know was how serious that interest was. You said the last gift was a mistake! Why couldn’t the rest have just been an overboard attempt at flattery? I could have dealt with that!”

"It was a mistake because they didn't understand the context. Even they acknowledged that much," Prowl promised him. "That doesn't diminish the fact they were sending far more than simple flattery would account for."

“I’m not interested in them like that, an’ I don’t understand why they’re so interested in me!” Jazz sighed, working to get his volume under control before it rose high enough to cause a disturbance. “Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to pick up the board, it only encouraged them. And I wouldn’t even have done it except for you.”

It hurt to be reminded that all those who had shown Jazz interest had been ignored in the past but it wasn't anything Prowl didn't already know. He'd even been witness to it occasionally. Still, logic didn't diminish the feeling. And he felt even worse at the maybe-accusation that, hopefully, wasn't. It really was his fault, but hearing Jazz state such as fact still stung.

"I'm afraid I can't explain their interest to you." If only he could clear everything up easily, but no. Trying to explain their interest would only cause different problems; worse ones, in Prowl’s opinion. And he still didn’t understand why or in what form it was persisting, even knowing where it had begun. "You do have to admit that you catch the optic of many though, often intentionally. It's unfortunate that it's causing you so much stress on this occasion however.” And then, because it had to be said and because Jazz deserved to hear it: "I'm sorry."

“You’re sorry? For what? Asking me to go? Mech, it’s not your fault I decided to ignore all the signs. That’s on me. I didn’t want to think about it before, and now it’s coming back to bite me.” Jazz finally pulled up a chair and sat down across the desk from Prowl. “Guess that really means I didn’t get the answer I wanted out of going to talk with them.”

"And just what answer were you hoping for? Or perhaps I should be asking, what question did you want answered?"

He’d wanted to be able to say he felt comfortable around them, that he didn’t mind them being part of Prowl’s life so he could spend more time with Prowl without their shadow hovering over them in his processor. Jazz shook his helm, frustrated at the whole situation, at himself. “I’m the one that should say sorry. I’m makin’ this all so difficult,” he said, not really answering. “It’d be a whole lot easier if I could just stop worryin’ about ridiculous stuff that ain’t gonna happen.” 

The majority of his processor was telling him just that – that he was worrying for nothing, that Prowl wouldn’t share things with them and could block them out and that he could still talk to Prowl without vicariously talking to them. The problem was that tiny little corner of his mind insisting that it might not be safe, that he needed to be sure, that he couldn’t trust anyone…

"Do you talk with them a lot? Over that bond thing, I mean. Would you tell me, if you were?” Jazz blurted out. “Because they were all in each other's heads and I couldn't tell what was going on half the time and… aagh, I'm soundin' ridiculous, aren't I?" he huffed. "That's the question I wanted an answer to - not are they nice, or can we be friends, just… can I be comfortable with them," he finished quietly. "I've missed talking with you, Prowl. I _want_ to be able to talk to you, but that means I gotta find a way to deal with them in _my_ head. That's why I agreed to go."

Prowl took a klik to consider the best way to approach the answer to that question. He did eventually reach a response he was willing to give, even if he still didn't like the level of inaccuracies. It was the best he knew though, and so the best he had to share.

"It is considerably more difficult for me to maintain communication with them in that manner unless we are in close proximity. Currently the limitation might even require that we are all in the same room. And I certainly don't have enough experience to manage a conversation with someone while also communicating with them. Or at least I have to assume so as I have yet to make the attempt."

Prowl exvented softly as a burst of excitement managed to reach him but he brushed it aside mentally. "Originally I chose this district for work and to live in because it was far enough away that I never felt them and only had to worry about their presence against my mind when I would stop in to check on them. They are the best construction workers on planet and I couldn't help taking it upon myself to make sure they were helping out as much as possible in the early days. In hindsight those visits may have been a bad idea as our radius has grown but it still takes a concentrated effort to hold any sort of conversation. Typically I just get vague impressions or sensations, presumably when they all simultaneously share a feeling."

"More like remote EM sensing than comms, huh? That's sort of neat, actually," Jazz admitted.

"For the time being, yes. It can work more in the comm style as well, although hardline is a better analogy. Words, thoughts, images, concepts. They all have equal capacity to be shared. I need to be close to them in order to utilize that method without difficulty however. Even then, as long as I divert at least a tiny portion of my processor to focusing on it I can maintain a strong enough mental shield to prevent thoughts from passing through."

Jazz turned what Prowl had said around in his processor. "And you're always careful and thorough. You don't like leaving things to chance, in anything you do." He had always known that about Prowl, but it was only now, really thinking about how those traits applied to this situation, that the nagging worry that something might slip to the Constructicons despite the Praxian's efforts settled. If it took effort to communicate rather than the other way around, then Jazz _could_ trust that they wouldn't be listening in without Prowl realizing.

At last he was able to let himself relax. Jazz sagged into his chair, draping himself over it in a way he was sure would annoy the other mech but not caring in the slightest as his protocols finally cleared Prowl as ‘safe’ again and shut down. "Thank you, for explaining that," he said, the seriousness of the words and expression in contrast with his casual pose. He had needed that, badly, and he hoped Prowl understood.

A solitary twitch of his wings preceded Prowl's calm reply. "You are welcome. I'm glad I could soothe your concerns with just my minimal understanding." Then he relaxed as well with a light chuckle. "I certainly got a considerable amount of excitement and good cheer while you were there. I take it you approve of their work?"

"I do!” Jazz nodded enthusiastically, following the shift to a lighter subject of conversation. “I’m blown away by what they did with the board. It’s practically a work of art."

"So…" Prowl began and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a smile that wasn't quite a smirk. "Are you going to show it off or leave me in suspense forever?"

"Aw, don't worry!” Jazz answered with a joking grin as he stood back up and squared the board on the desk between them. “I wouldn’t wind you up and leave you hangin'!" He began showing off the features, demonstrating as he talked through each one. "The catch to detach the board from the top's here," he said, lifting it free and holding it up so Prowl could see. "Easy to use but not easy to hit by mistake. There's all the pieces in the box; they've got 'em in layers you can lift out, it’s amazing.” 

"Apparently," Prowl agreed as he watched Jazz detach the game board. That latch had been among the details he had known about but the decorative trim must have been a later addition. Or perhaps they'd believed he wouldn't be interested in the more artistic aspects. Often that might be true but the intricacy involved and ingenuity of including the latch press was worth commenting on when next he spoke with his team.

“That’s nothing though, compared to - here, gimme your hands, I'll show you." He shifted the weight of the board to one hand so he could reach across the desk with his other toward Prowl. "This is the best part."

"Best part you say?" From the tilt of his wings to his stare to the not-quite question in his tone, every aspect of Prowl’s stance was calling out that claim in jest, though in truth he did trust Jazz's judgement almost on par with his own, and even more so on certain topics. "Do show me."

"I do say," Jazz insisted playfully, amused by Prowl's mock-doubt. Taking one of Prowl's hands, he passed him the board before grabbing the other to position them both so that Prowl could trigger the expansion mechanism. "You just go like this, aaand - ta da!" His voice dropped almost to a whisper. "It's like magic," he said as the tiles began to shift, the kaleidoscope effect of their movement mirrored in the reflection on his visor.

Prowl watched with unguarded interest. It wasn't hard to pick out various aspects of the mechanics that he had seen previously but as interesting as the spiral effect was, it was the design that really captured his interest. And especially so when he happened to glance up and see the beautiful scene reflected in that gorgeous visor. He had to force himself to look away before he could be caught staring.

"That is amazing…"

“See? Told you it was art.”Jazz had to force himself to let go of Prowl’s hands and leave him to examine the board without guiding him through it. He focused on the patterns to give himself something else to think about, captivated anew even having taken such a good look at it before. “They said the other boards would be just as beautiful, when they finish them. I’m havin’ trouble believing it, looking at this.” He tapped the box, the slight jostling making the Go stones at the top rustle quietly. “You should check these out too. They’re pretty impressive as well. Plus, they did something fun with the dice.”

Prowl turned his attention to the inside of the base. The first layer came out just like Jazz had said, and separated just as easily. It was a good solution to the dilemma created by needing separate containers for either Go player. The next layer slid out smoothly as well to reveal the compartments built into the bottom layer. Prowl spent a moment looking over the various pieces and even picked up one of the white Go pieces to examine it closer with an appreciative hum. His wings slowly flicked once in approval before he settled it back into the appropriate holder. 

Then he remembered Jazz mentioning the dice and he looked back into the base to locate them. Surprise caused his sensor wings to flick again as amusement filtered into his field. Prowl even chuckled as he pulled out two to look closer. "Well that wasn't in the design specs," he commented, "but I suppose they couldn't resist."

Jazz laughed, entertained both by the dice and Prowl's reaction to them. "That's what I said too. They told me the green was an accident, then they made the purple on purpose to go with it. I think they were worried we wouldn't like 'em, said something about not matching the set. But I think they're kinda neat."

He picked up a tumbler and poured out the remaining five green dice onto the desk. They landed in a little cluster reminiscent of the five mechs gathered around the table in the workroom earlier. "I didn't test to see how fair they are," he said, scooping them back up quickly and rerolling them once, then again. "Looks good so far! Though three incomplete rolls don’t exactly a reliable dataset make."

"They are quite 'neat'," Prowl agreed, purposely using Jazz's own term. He offered out the green die in his hand. "And just what would a reliable test require? Is it something we can do right now in the limited space we have here?

"Assumin' you don't want to go crazy and build a fancy machine to throw the dice over and over, sure. We just roll 'em over and over and record the results. With a six-sided die, 50 throws with an average result of 3.5 or close to that is a pretty fair die." Jazz shrugged. "With a margin for error of course." He hefted the green dice, then picked up the tumbler with the rest of the purple set and held it out to Prowl. "You game?"

"Only fifty times seems a bit small for a proper sample size but I suppose this doesn't require the intensive statistical complexity I've seen in the past." To give them additional space, Prowl decided to put away the datapad he still had out after he had taken the offered dice. "And while a machine might ultimately be more accurate, it too would require testing first so the most timely method is testing the dice ourselves. If you can manage to throw the exact same way every time then that will cut down on your margin of error as well."

Just before closing the drawer again, Prowl paused. "Would you like a blank datapad to record your results?"

"That'd be helpful. I'm pretty sure my little notepad's full again." Jazz fished out the small travel-size device from his subspace and activated the display. "Yup, just about. It fills up way too fast, I need to clear some space on it again tonight." He put it away again then looked to Prowl. "Got one I can borrow? I promise I'll do my best to throw consistently."

Trading the one with his plans for another, Prowl shut the drawer and held the second 'pad out for Jazz. He'd already anticipated that need, thus the purpose behind his question. "You could always carry around a full size one," he suggested. "I keep at least two in my subspace and always have several more waiting either here or at home, but that's just me."

"I have lots at home, they're just mostly all full of music scores and instrument schematics. I need to get some new ones," Jazz replied. "And my subspace, uh, kinda needs a little work. It’s a little bit… full." Breezing past that revelation, he nodded to the dice. "The rolls'll be more repeatable one die at a time, so they aren't interactin' with each other."

"Very true," Prowl agreed, picking up his set and shaking the tumbler to mix the dice before tipping the container to collect one die at random and setting the rest down. He picked a location off to the side so they still had plenty of space. "And working individually will best allow us to determine if any seem rigged or simply improperly balanced as well." His gaze was back on Jazz although he tried not to stare or make it awkward. "Should we take turns or do you think we will be fine each rolling one at the same time?"

“It’ll take longer if we go in turns; you sure you’ve got time to do this now?” Jazz asked. “Not that I’m complainin’, mind. I’ll stay till you kick me out!” He smiled. “How ‘bout this - we’ll trade off. I roll while you record your last throw, and you roll while I’m recordin’ mine.”

"That should be suitable," Prowl accepted. Then he offered Jazz a soft smile. "I have as much time as we need."

And he did. The testing took more than a joor and they were undisturbed the entire time. It might have taken less but at one point Jazz got a bit overzealous and threw his die hard enough it bounced and landed on the floor instead of the desk and they'd engaged in a bit of good natured debate when Jazz finally realized Prowl wasn't even writing his results down. Eventually though they were finally done and ready to analyze the data.

Prowl, unsurprisingly, finished first. "I'd say mine are accurate enough. I averaged out between 3.47 to 3.51 on each die with a fairly even spread of results. What about yours?"

"'Bout the same, except for this one that seems to want to be special and averaged 3.62." Jazz held up the offending die. "I call dibs on the green set."

"If they are the same then it shouldn't matter which set you have," Prowl challenged. He made no move to switch out their sets though. This was just some playful teasing. "And just when did we decide we were playing anything right now? I don't recall agreeing to this."

"I don't hear you _not_ agreeing either," Jazz countered, though he realized belatedly that he'd gotten so wrapped up in testing the dice that he hadn't checked his chronometer in a while. He was surprised to see how much time had passed when he did and felt torn between bringing it up or continuing to impose and following through on his promise to stay until Prowl said he had to leave.

 _Or maybe I should see how much longer I can get him to let me stay_ , he thought. _Unless he's about to tell me to get lost now, that is_. Trying to make the idea sound as inviting as possible, Jazz braced a hand on the desktop to lean over it and rattle the dice enticingly. "C'mon, what do you say? One game? See if one of us can get Yahtzee?"

Prowl watched Jazz's antics with a quiet amusement. He was in such good spirits from the visit that he barely registered that feeling had slipped into his field. He didn't bother fighting it though; Jazz had always had a way of both invoking unexpected feelings as well as bringing most of his hidden ones to light.

"That depends on your answer to one question," he answered. As tempting as leaning closer was, he held his current distance. "Would you rather stay here to play or should we go discuss where we want to end up over energon?"

"Really?" The question caught Jazz off-guard and he found himself remembering Prowl falling into his lap on the couch. _Where we ended up last time was just fine_ , he almost said and felt his face begin to heat. _Ack! No, don't say something like that! The mech just wants to be friends, he's just talking about where to have the first game night! Get it together!_

Trying to keep his flustered thoughts from showing too badly, Jazz fell back on humor. "You mean, you're actually giving me a chance to pull you away from this desk? Sweet! I want a raincheck on the dice game though," he said firmly. "Did you have someplace in mind for energon?"

"Of course," Prowl answered. "It is a free orn for me. I simply thought this would be the easiest location to have the Constructicons direct you to if you were also free after meeting with them." He was most certainly not looking at Jazz by now. "I hope I didn't overstep too far."

“Your whole orn is free?” Jazz stared stupidly for a moment as he processed that. _Hook said his schedule was pretty open, not that he had the orn off!_ “Well then. Allow me to continue monopolizing it. Did you want to make tonight our first game night after energon?” He smiled, putting the dice back into the box and holding out his hand for Prowl to pass him the purple ones. “You’re not overstepping if I’m not.”

"Of course you aren't. I am the one who asked them to send you this way before you left after all." Prowl passed back his dice back before standing. "And I was hoping to extend that offer to you so naturally I accept."

Jazz let out a relieved laugh. "And here I was thinkin' I'd have to suffer through waiting another decaorn for you to fit me into your schedule!" He replaced the dice and the trays with the rest of the pieces swiftly and put the board back on top, fixing it in place with a click. "Awesome. The only thing left to figure out is where we want to play then. Shall we go discuss?” Unable to actually wait, he continued. “I don't mind having it at my place again, though I'm still curious to see your place.”

"My apartment is far less interesting than yours and likely even more boring than my old office and quarters put together." Prowl was nearly at the door by the time he finished his sentence and as he let the door slide open he offered one more consideration. "If, however, you are still interested in visiting then I can host us this time. I will warn you now though, I don't have anything nearly as nice as the high grade you had last time."

"Well, that is something to consider," Jazz said as they walked together to the building's entrance. "I still have some of that high grade, plus more of those goodies that we didn't finish." He tilted his helm inquiringly at Prowl. "Why don't we do my place again this time, and then next time we go over to yours?"

"That is certainly an acceptable plan," Prowl agreed, and together they stepped out into the street, looking forward to the rest of the evening.


	10. A Game Changer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Game Night! Both mechs get to teach the other a new game and for the first time in a long time a loss leads to a greater win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one but so worth it.

Prowl and Jazz stopped on their way back to Jazz’s apartment for energon at a nice little café that had recently opened up near the precinct. The owner had been dabbling in recreating old flavors, and while they were nowhere near as nice as pre-war blends yet, it was infinitely better than wartime quality. A few flavors were even said to be nearly comparable to Sideswipe's high grade brews. Prowl had been there before on occasion, and Jazz was quick to agree that it would be worth visiting again.

Their conversation there was light, bouncing between several casual topics just to catch up; from the orn to orn shenanigans the new batch of enforcers was causing to Jazz's progress on reconstructing his instruments. That lead to the request he'd had for the Constructicons, which Prowl had been genuinely surprised by but acknowledged it was good progress for them. It might even keep them distracted from Jazz himself for a while, which had not so secretly pleased said mech.

After they left, Jazz once again led the way to his home and disengaged the security as he entered first. A glance around showed the place was nearly identical to Prowl’s last visit, but also caused his sensor wings to flick once when his gaze fell on the couch. Both chairs had been left out and he quickly settled into the one facing the door so he was facing Jazz when he was finished rearming the system.

"Before we begin," Prowl said slowly, "I would like to offer an apology for any inappropriate behaviors or actions I may have shown the previous time I was here. I should have done so sooner but I was too embarrassed by what little I did remember to examine any of it until recently, and for that delay I must apologize again."

Jazz had just finishing placing the gameset on the table and was about to sit down when Prowl spoke. He stopped with his hand on the back of the chair, processor spinning through the implications. _He didn't try to recover his memories right after he left?_ Jazz couldn't imagine doing something like that; he'd assumed Prowl hadn't waited a moment longer than it took to get back to a secure location to defrag, just like he'd done. _Embarrassed or not, how could he stand not knowing?_

He pushed that question aside quickly as unimportant. It didn't really matter why Prowl had delayed, only that he had. That knowledge changed everything. _I figured that was why he didn't call me and wasn’t talking about what happened_ , Jazz thought. _That he'd reviewed the evening and decided to just ignore everything I said_. Hope began to grow in Jazz's spark, accompanied by a flash of discouragement. _He obviously either still doesn't remember because he drank too much and everything wound up corrupted beyond restoration, or he's misinterpreting what I said, if he hasn’t said anything about it._

 _Except… he's embarrassed and apologizing for his behavior, not complainin' about mine. So if he does remember… maybe he didn't mind_.

Hope won over discouragement, and Jazz couldn't keep it from his field. It still didn’t necessarily mean Prowl returned his interest, but it was more than he’d had before. "Apology for the delay, accepted. Apology for what you did, not needed." He smiled brightly and sat down in his chair, joining Prowl properly at the table. "You didn't do anything that night that I had a problem with." 

"I'm glad you think so, but I respectfully disagree." Prowl's words offered opportunity to debate the matter but his tone suggested the end of that conversation.

Jazz wanted to argue that technically Prowl couldn’t disagree with what had or hadn’t offended Jazz, merely what he himself had a problem with, but he respected Prowl’s clear desire not to pursue the matter. Dwelling on it would serve no purpose, really. Better to move ahead, and see what might happen with new overtures… though going so far as getting drunk and falling asleep on each other was probably not the best way to go.

Prowl changed the subject with a slight smirk. "You shouldn't have sat down yet," he commented, too innocently. "Not unless you want me rummaging around in your cabinets for those treats you offered. I suggest we hold off on the high grade until later though, and I can set up the board in the meantime. Once we decide what we want to play at least."

“You want to start with ‘em now, be my guest! Since, you know, you _are_ my guest. They’re under the counter,” Jazz said in regards to the treats. “I was thinking of holding off until after the first game or two myself, but I definitely agree with saving the high grade for later. I’m going to have a hard enough time beating you without any help from that stuff!” He laughed. “Maybe we should start with one of the more complex games first.”

"We don't necessarily need to consume them right away," Prowl explained as he stood. "But collecting them now does mean one less reason to stop for one of us to get up and get them later." He paused before stepping away from the table, considering something, but it wasn't long before he spoke his thoughts. "If you're already concerned about losing then let's begin with Go. It will be difficult for me to beat you while I'm still learning."

“True – see, you’re thinking ahead, that’s why you’re going to be better at this than me,” Jazz said. “Go it is then. I doubt it’ll take you all that long to pick it up. I know you, you’re a quick study.” Instead of setting up the board, however, he spun in his chair to watch Prowl make his way over to the cabinets. “It’s the second to the left.”

"In case you've forgotten, planning ahead is one of my specialties." Prowl paused to find the right cabinet then quickly located the treats and turned back around to return. "Whether I understand the rules quickly or not however, there's still the fact that my first game will be spent learning them and thus I won't make the optimal starting moves or necessarily be able to follow up a good move with another good one. It lends probability to you winning," he noted as he reached the table. "At least that one."

“I’ll just have to enjoy my victories while I can then,” Jazz laughed. “With Go there’s always the option to play at a handicap by letting your opponent place stones before the game begins, by the way. In case you ever felt like taking pity on me.”

Sliding the box aside to make room for Prowl to set down the treats, Jazz separated the board from the base and reached in to take out the pieces before replacing it. He set the grid to its 9x9 configuration. “Just to start with,” he explained. “It’s easier to demonstrate and play out quickly on a smaller board.”

"Let's see just how badly you fare before we worry about giving you any advantages. If you like the game then it can't be as straightforward as it may seem." Prowl settled himself back into his chair after placing the treats towards the edge of the table. "And even if it is, you are ingenious enough to create the most unconventional solutions."

“Why yes, I am,” Jazz agreed easily. “Thank you for noticing. As for straightforward – well, the humans say Go is one of those games you can learn in a day and spend a lifetime perfecting. There’s a quote from one of the masters that I really like.” He paused to retrieve the exact wording. “He said, ‘It is more art than science: in order to surround and capture an opponent's territory, one needs intuition, flexibility, and acute perception combined with a sharp analytical mind. Each player is a partner in an exercise of coexistence; each player needs the other for self-enlightenment and for enjoyment.’ Kaoru Iwamoto.” Jazz smiled. “I certainly plan to enjoy playing with you.”

Going over the basic rules was as simple as Jazz had made it out to be, though it took longer than strictly necessary as he kept sneaking in anecdotes and cultural commentary throughout his explanation. They ran through a couple of practice games, Prowl playing black as the new and therefore ‘weaker’ player, during which Prowl’s predictions about Jazz winning turned out to be accurate. Jazz still insisted he would catch up and pass him quickly, however. “You were made for this kind of stuff,” he said, admiration coloring his voice. “It’s incredible watching your strategies unfold.”

Prowl accepted the compliment in a very befitting way. "You are more accurate than you might know; my processing capacity truly is optimized for this type of strategy. It is nice to finally have a peaceful outlet for it."

He offered Jazz a smile. "Perhaps we could try on the proper sized board now? I am curious how a true game might play compared to these attempts." Not to mention the fact he had a tendency to plan further ahead than was strictly necessary for such a quick round, so it was worth testing if a longer game would prove to be a better fit for his processor. He didn’t want to just say that though as it suggested he had little to no faith in Jazz's skill at the game. Instead, it came out as, "I think it will be interesting to use the large board, if only for the need to reveal it again. The transition is amazing to watch."

“Certainly! I’m more used to playing on the full size board myself. It’s kind of tricky trying to scale it back. Help me clear the pieces,” Jazz said, reclaiming his stones and placing them back in their container. Once they were all off the board, Jazz found the trigger points and slowly spiraled the board out in one smooth glide. He watched appreciatively again as the patterns shifted, glancing up briefly to watch Prowl’s reaction this time. “Beautiful,” he said quietly, not referring entirely to the board.

Prowl hummed his appreciation softly in agreement. His team did good work but they had certainly outdone themselves here. It was strange to have mechs around who were willing to put in so much effort simply because he had asked. It had been a long time since he had received that much respect. There hadn't been many who had done as he said during the war and even then it was only by command. There were a few exceptions though; like the most important and precious one sitting right across from him. He snuck a glance at the other black and white and felt a gentle smile tug at his lip plating.

Then it was gone as, with a click, the board reached its full size and locked into place. “You wanna stay with black, or should we do a proper _nigiri_?” Jazz asked. “I don’t mind givin’ you the advantage again, if you want it.”

"I can stay black but I'd like to try without any handicap,” Prowl answered. “I would rather make the attempt once to get the full experience."

Jazz nodded, having anticipated that to be Prowl’s response. “I was hopin’ you’d say that. I wanna see how you think with the whole board to work with in a regular game too.” He inched forward to sit on the edge of his chair. “D’you know, this’ll be a first for me? I played a couple of times online while I was on Earth, but it ain’t the same. Having physical pieces and your opponent actually sitting across from you is so much better than lookin’ at a screen.” He smiled. “Especially because it’s you.”

"I can believe it," Prowl replied. Behind him, his sensor wings fluttered on his back. "I used to play a few games against challengers remotely before the war but the timing was never right for me to attend a tournament, even though my opponents often invited me to enter. A few of them were incredibly eager to meet me and issue a challenge in person."

Shifting his container of black stones a bit further out of his way, Prowl also shifted the topic for a moment. "Shall we begin?"

“I’m ready when you are; first move is yours.” Jazz thought about what Prowl had said as the Praxian placed his first stone. “I never went for tournaments myself, before the war. I just played games on the servers.” He placed his first stone across the board, nowhere near Prowl’s first play.

The next several exchanges went by swiftly, each of them placing stones without long pauses for contemplation. Jazz’s visor flickered once at an unexpected move from Prowl, though he didn’t comment as he moved to counter him with an unconventional move of his own, causing the next several moves to be played out somewhat slower.

“Know what’s funny?” Jazz said, breaking the silence. “The reason I avoided tournaments is because they were either too serious and formal, or too laid back and disorganized. There was no comfortable middle ground. I felt that way about those clubs they had dedicated to gamin’, too.” His next stone landed with a soft _click_. “The ones I checked out were either full of old mechs who looked down at young punks like I was back then and would stare you out the door if they didn’t dump you on your aft in the street, or establishments callin’ themselves game clubs for the respectability that were something else entirely.” He laughed, remembering. “Though there was that one place that made the best dusted naptha gummies.”

"Why am I not the slightest bit surprised to hear you have always been a troublemaker?" The question came in a teasing tone and was accompanied by Prow’s next move. His wings flicked as he considered more and then added, "If we had met then I'm fairly certain you would have assessed me as another of those 'old mechs' even though I don't believe there's much of a gap in our ages." Prowl watched as Jazz played a piece that didn't seem to affect his current strategy and set down one of his own almost immediately after, all without even pausing his flow of words. "My behaviors did not change much when I reached my adult frame and I often looked down on troublesome bots as well."

"Hey now! I'll have you know I have never been a troublemaker. I," Jazz proudly placed his next stone, "am an agent of chaos!" He laughed at the look on Prowl's face. "Guess you knew that, huh?" Prowl didn't say anything in response, but he hardly needed to. They both knew how many times Jazz had been the monkey wrench in someone's plans, Decepticon and Autobot alike. He did place his next stone rather sharply in an otherwise silent admonishment, however.

They were distracted by the challenge at hand at that point, the attention demanded by the game keeping them from dwelling on the past. Jazz had more territory overall as the game progressed, but he wasn't quite ready to call the victory his. Prowl had surprised him in the upper left, capturing a large area with a few decisive moves that Jazz hadn't seen coming until it was too late to stop him, and it was still possible he could pull a similar reversal again in the lower right.

Jazz hesitated over whether to shore up his position there or to go on the offensive in one of the less contested areas. "We sure do have different approaches," he remarked. "I don't think I'd have called you old for that," he said, returning to Prowl's earlier comment. "Looking down on trouble makers is more a function of your upbringing than your age in the end, isn't it?" Throwing caution to the wind, he went ahead and placed his next stone offensively in the upper right. "Besides, you look too good for an old mech." He ginned. "I can only imagine what a looker you musta been back then."

Ignoring Jazz's sudden location change for a moment, Prowl continued placing stones where he was currently focused. A few more well placed stones and he would be able to claim this section too. His own position in that new area should be easy enough to defend, although one never knew for sure around Jazz.

"So you would have harassed me for an entirely different reason then?" the Praxian teased. His sensorwings sat low on his back but were angled up and flicked occasionally in a mixture of embarrassment, interest and amusement. He offered a smile as Jazz looked up after playing his next piece. "I might still have a few old memory files accessible. I could try to copy them to a datapad so you'd be able to judge for yourself?" His next piece also went down with little regard to Jazz's current strategy. "The quality would not be as good as an image capture, especially after all this time, but hopefully it would be clear enough."

"'Harassed', huh?" Jazz said, his next move following on the previous as he began laying a foundation for a more encompassing strategy, still focused for now in the upper right. "That what you call it when a mech gives you a compliment?" He smiled across the board. "Would sayin' I'd very much like to see that capture, regardless of the quality, constitute further harassment?"

"Repeated unnecessary and inaccurate flattery mixed with highly unappealing and unimaginative offers to be taken to another's berth do tend to fall under that category, yes." Prowl made his own move as he continued. "That's not to imply you would do any of the above, of course, but I had been subject to all of that on numerous occasions. Especially by fetishists after I moved to Iacon."

"I hear you on that one. Ain't no harm in havin' a type necessarily, but some of those fetishists…" Jazz grimaced, placing another stone. His own frame class wasn't as sought after as Prowl's classic Praxian design, but he'd encountered a few 'enthusiasts' himself - mostly larger mechs who liked being with minibots for the size factor. _Not_ Jazz's idea of a good time. "The ones into wings or doorwings are some of the worst, then and now."

"They can be, yes," Prowl agreed as he took a moment to examine the board and revise his strategy. "You would be amazed what some of those interested in enforcers want done though. I'm quite sure half the suggestions one mech made weren't even legal and there was another who wanted so many strange things I still don't actually know what he was asking."

More pieces clicked down as the conversation trailed off, and Jazz had to force himself not to get distracted thinking about it. _He just said he didn't think you were like those mechs, you're fine_ , he told himself, cutting off a curse as he caught himself just in time to avoid putting a stone down in the wrong place. _Not like him bein' Praxian's the reason I like him. I like him because he's_ Prowl. _That frame's gorgeous, but it's only part of what makes him so amazing._

The move Prowl made next was proof of that - once again, he'd managed to corner a group of Jazz's stones and claim another section of the board for himself, displaying that brilliant mind. _Wow. This's gonna be close!_ Jazz thought, excited. If he couldn't pull off his strategy to take the last large expanse it would all be over - quibbling over the smaller unclaimed spaces wouldn't matter anymore after that.

 _I can still win this_. Jazz kept his expression carefully neutral as he looked down at the board. _As long as he doesn't block me here, which he'd have to sacrifice the group he's working on now to do._ Prowl needed three more moves to pin down his section; Jazz only needed two, and it was his turn.

Prowl leaned back to give Jazz the board with a soft smile. "This is nice. I had forgotten how pleasant an orn with no responsibilities could be."

"You forgot, huh? I think that just means we need to do this more often then." Placing his next stone casually, Jazz tried not to give anything away as he returned Prowl's smile and waited to see if he would spot the weakness and exploit it before Jazz could finish his endgame.

"I do believe that was the point of getting these boards," Prowl said, gently reminding Jazz of that detail. "However the confirmation is appreciated." He played his next piece in his same area as his last. "Just how often were you thinking?"

“How often can you make time? My schedule’s more open than yours.” Jazz strove to keep his excitement from showing as he placed a stone to cover the final weak point. The deciding territory was his, even though he had yet to fully surround it. Prowl couldn’t block him now! The only question was how many more moves it would take for him to see that and concede the game. “I was hopin’ we might make this a regular thing once a decaorn or something?” The words came out somewhere between a statement and a question. “And if that’s too much, maybe can we at least meet up for energon or something more often?” That one was a question, eager and hopeful.

"My schedule is as open as I choose for it to be, seeing as I plan that as well," Prowl countered. He gave a soft hum of consideration as he placed his next piece then looked back to Jazz. "I typically try to schedule my subordinates two orn off a decaorn with some receiving three while I only take one for myself. The lack of appealing activity on free orns would drive me crazy with more time than that. If you'd like, I can give myself two as well but then I will hold you accountable for keeping things interesting." Prowl offered a smile that was definitely more of a smirk. As if any time spent around Jazz was ever boring. The mech was creativity incarnate. 

The smirk didn’t last, but there was amusement and happiness in his field. They were muted, as his field often was, but present nonetheless. "Alternatively, we could simply meet for energon before our shifts begin once or twice a decaorn and only commit to an entire orn once a decaorn." Prowl's suggested. "I do work occasional later shifts that would have us working at the same time. I will suggest that our orn occurs early in the decaorn as that seems to be the calmest time and we would be least likely to be interrupted by my job."

"Really?!" A thrilled buzz rippled through Jazz's EM field. He'd been expecting Prowl to negotiate down, not offer _more_ time than he'd dared to ask for. And he seemed pleased by the prospect, no less! "That'd be great!" Jazz said animatedly, almost upsetting the container of stones by his hand and fumbling to steady it without spilling them across the table and onto the floor. He grasped it with both hands for something to hold onto.

His first impulse was to say go ahead and clear two orns, but he hesitated, considering the second option seriously. He wanted their rekindling friendship to last, not burn out, and rushing into too much time together too quickly might result in that shared time not being enjoyable anymore. What if he couldn't keep things interesting? What if it turned out they didn't have enough in common? Unlikely as that seemed, perhaps it would be preferable to have less time and wish they had more. They could always add the second orn later, and Jazz definitely didn't want to ask Prowl to make it available only to wind up regretting it and looking for reasons to cancel.

"Let's start with one orn and meet up before shifts sometimes too," he said more steadily. "If you don't get sick of seein' that much of me, then I'm totally claiming another orn." Hopefully Prowl would see and appreciate the reasoning behind the suggestion. "I'll start thinking of _interesting_ ideas so I'll be ready, and you can start working out where it'll fit best in the decaorn. I've got no problem with it bein’ earlier, by the way, as long as it's not the third or fifth orn." His hands relaxed and he pulled one away from the side of the container to pick up and place his next stone.

"That sounds like a suitable plan." Prowl felt a flash of disappointment but he kept it from his field. It couldn't be a bad thing not to rush after all. They were only just beginning to reconnect and it would be ridiculous to expect Jazz to want to devote that much time to him anyway.

"Naturally, I will not expect you to supply all ideas for activities we could do," he added. That was a small perk to limiting their meetings; they would run less risk of running out of possible experiences. The city was far from rebuilt yet, much less the planet, and the entertainment aspect was still rather lacking. Some skilled performers, like Jazz himself, had gone back to their pre-war entertainment jobs but that was only a handful of bots at a limited number of venues.

Prowl picked up a piece and placed it before continuing. "We will always have the option of turning any of those occasions into a game night, unless we plan to decide on the frequency of those right now?"

"Exactly! I reserve the right for anything to turn into a longer engagement if we want it to," Jazz said. "I know you love your schedules, but I start feelin' a bit cramped if there's no room for spontaneity. I'd like to still be able to surprise you sometimes, you know." His visor flickered in a wink. "So, how 'bout we plan on three meetings per decaorn and go with the flow on anything else as it comes up? We got meetin' for drinks, game night, and an orn spent doing something interesting."

Playing another stone, Jazz tapped the side of the board lightly to illustrate his next thought. "I'm cool with that something interesting including more games, by the way. Although I mean it when I say I'm gonna start thinking of other stuff we can do too." His processor was already chasing down several prospects, in fact. In particular, he was wondering how Prowl would react to the thought of finding somewhere they could race.

"I should hope you are," Prowl commented with a flick of his wings that would indicate teasing to anyone who knew how to read their motions. "And that plan is acceptable to me as well."

He might have kept going but he had been studying the board as he spoke and suddenly stopped. "I do believe I finally understand your plan," he said instead. His wings flicked once again, at a lower angle now, broadcasting mild irritation with himself for how long it had taken. He turned his gaze to Jazz before asking, "How badly have I lost by?"

"Wondered when you'd spot it, though actually, I only have a victory margin of 30 points,” Jazz replied. “You sure made me fight for it!" 

"I miscalculated." The explanation came with an embarrassed flick of Prowl’s sensor panels. "I had assumed it would take you longer to claim this area than it did. My mistake. I am glad that I could still provide a challenge though," he stated with a smile. 

Jazz gestured at few remaining small contested areas. "Did you still want to play out the rest of the game for a final score? Or would you rather concede now so we can play again? This or Othello, I've been lookin' forward to you teaching me that one."

Prowl examined the board again for a moment. "There's no need to finish. I don't see how I could drop that much lower and there's plenty of opportunity for you to increase your lead instead." He lifted a hand but hesitated to begin clearing the board. "Unless _you_ want us to finish this one?"

"Nah, I'm good calling it." Jazz started gathering the white stones back into their container. "I’m satisfied knowin’ my strategy was a success! This time." He looked knowingly at Prowl. "Somehow I doubt you'll make that particular oversight again."

"I certainly hope not," Prowl replied, aghast, as he began collecting his pieces as well.

Soon the board was empty once more. Largely for the excuse to play with it again, Jazz shrank the grid down to its smallest size. "So - Othello?” he asked, then expanded it back up. “Or another round of Go?" He resisted the urge to continue going back and forth until Prowl answered, though his smirk let the other mech know he'd thought about it.

Watching with barely hidden amusement, Prowl took an exaggerated moment to consider with a fairly loud _hmmm_ of thought. His decision was made in part because of Jazz's actions and the small joy playing with the board seemed to bring him. "I suppose," he began, speaking at a slightly slower pace, "seeing as you have shown interest anyway, I could teach you Othello."

 _And give you one more legitimate opportunity to play with resizing that board_ , he added silently in his mind. 

Which Jazz did happily, sliding the board back down again. "It's one of these sizes, right?" he asked teasingly, toggling it between the 9x9 and the proper 8x8 configuration.

"If you don't know then pass the board over to me," Prowl stated with a smile. "I can just do this part myself." His own tone also was teasing as he finished, "Since you'd rather just play with the board itself."

"No, I'd rather play with you," Jazz said, unthinking. Then, embarrassed as he realized the potential innuendo, he quickly pushed the board at Prowl, still set at 9x9. He took the container of black stones and reconnected it with its other half before realizing he couldn't put them away or get the other pieces out. Not with the board was still fixed to the base as a stand. _Real smooth, Jazz._

Wings tilted up in curiosity, Prowl watched in silence as Jazz fumbled. It was… unusual, to say the least. Certainly questionable but he had no idea just how to ask after it so he opted to let it go and focus instead on opening the base so he could collect the next tray for their pieces. He held it out to Jazz as he spoke. "White or black?"

"Can I be black this time? That way we'll each have gotten to play both tonight," Jazz said, then snickered softly. "Black and white for black and white." His gaze travelled between Prowl's paint scheme and his own. "Sorry, I'll stop bein' silly and pay attention." 

He offered the Go stones to Prowl in exchange for the tray so they could be put back in the box out of the way. As he set the new pieces to the side where they could both reach them, he pulled the treats forward slightly so they were within easy reach as well. "Go ahead - I'm listening." 

"Very well. The game begins with four pieces in the center, as such." As he spoke, the Praxian collected four chips and settled them on the middle four squares of the board with two white and two black facing up with matching colors diagonal from one another. "The idea of the game is similar to Go but when you capture pieces here, you then change them to your color. Whoever controls the most spaces at the end wins.

"Capturing pieces is done by flanking the opposite color. Your move is only valid if it does so and there may be occasions where no valid moves exist and you must forfeit your turn. If there are no more valid moves for either player then gameplay ends, even if there are empty spaces remaining." His optics never left Jazz for long, watching as he absorbed the information. "Would you like me to show you or does that make enough sense for us to begin?"

"Sounds pretty straightforward, though I can already see how you'd want to pick your moves carefully," Jazz said. "Let's give it a try. Is there a rule for who plays first?" He picked up one of the energon treats instead of a game piece to start with, mock-placing it on the board before popping it in his mouth. The soft center beneath the thin outer shell was even stickier than he'd been expecting, and biting down on it stuck his denta together. He quickly started trying to work it loose, knowing he'd be unable to speak around it clearly until he did.

"Typically black, although the players may also decide," Prowl shared, casually observing the other without comment. "I have no issue with allowing you the first move considering you gave me such previously."

After a moment of no response, Prowl decided to fill the silence with a few additional tips. "If you can place a piece at the outer edge that's a fairly safe location but it's the corners that are ideal. If you claim one then that piece can't be captured."

"Hmmm," Jazz hummed by way of a response with a closed-mouthed smile, the gummy mass loosening but not quite letting go. Taking his first game piece from the tray, he laid it down on the board with the black face up next to one of the starting white pieces, which he carefully flipped over.

He succeeded in pulling his denta apart as he drew his hand back. "Good advice, thanks!" There was still a faint lisp to the words around what was left of the treat, but at least they were words. Rather than trying to chew it again, Jazz decided to wait for it to melt on its own. "Wouldn't do to fixate on the corners and lose focus on the rest of the field though."

"Certainly not," Prowl agreed as he placed a piece and claimed one of the black pieces. He flipped that piece then looked to the tray of goodies as he continued. "But advice rarely hurts, to give or to get, and it wouldn't be fair for me to keep all the tips to myself."

That last came with just a hint of a smirk that was gone as he reached over and picked out a treat almost at random. It was only mildly sweet, so certainly tolerable, and a trial bite suggested it was completely solid so that left sucking on it until it was gone. Not the most polite way to hold a conversation but it would be even less so if he were to just spit it out.

Jazz made another move, placing and flipping the pieces. "Advice generally is a good thing," he agreed. "Though you gotta deliver it right, and some mechs just ain't interested no matter how you phrase things." He laughed. "Cliffjumper wasn't the type to take advice from anyone on anything, for instance! Nossir, that mech knew it all already."

He leaned back, considering. "Mirage could be pretty touchy about that sort of thing too. He'd frame advice so it sounded like criticism, and he took advice from others the same way." Jazz shook his head. "Anyway I don't mind gettin' advice wherever I can. You never know what might turn out to be useful."

"Very true. I knew a few in the past who couldn't take or give advice either but thankfully I haven't had to work with any of that sort yet since events calmed down." It was a challenge to talk around the treat but Prowl figured out the trick to it as he continued. "We do have a new batch of trainees beginning soon however so that might change."

Making a move of his own, he stole four blacks back to white. It left him open to losing three pieces but he could claim those back and a couple more afterwards. 

"I'll keep my fingers crossed they're a good bunch and don't give you any trouble," he said, playing his next piece to capture the three Prowl had left vulnerable without seeing how it would play out further along. "Of course, that's probably asking too much. Newbies always cause trouble in one form or another."

Prowl claimed back the stolen pieces immediately, also hitting the first edge. He spoke as he flipped his captured pieces. "Some problems are less trouble than others. Someone who does not take advice well may develop into one who refuses to follow instructions. Given a choice, I would much rather keep around someone who couldn't aim to save their life. Skills can be taught, respect can not."

"Yeah. If a mech don't have respect for anything or anyone, no amount of teachin'll make a difference." Jazz paused to think before making his next move, trying to think how many pieces he could capture and what openings would be left for Prowl with each of his available moves.

Deciding, he made his play and switched his attention back to the goodies. Being more careful there as well this time, Jazz selected a small semi-solid cube with a purple cast to it and bit it in half neatly. The flavor wasn't particularly strong, but the coating had an aftertaste that built as he ate the second half.

Several more turns went by quickly. Jazz found the more volatile field where the pieces constantly changed color more difficult to keep track of than the more static Go, despite the board being smaller. It was a fun challenge. 

"I don't know yet whether I'm doing well at this or not," he admitted, "but I already know I like it!"

"The ever shifting dynamic does seem to be the sort of thing you would enjoy." It was one reason Prowl had offered to teach him. "To one who does not understand, it would certainly seem like chaos, but it is the sort of chaos that does have a purpose. It also means there is absolutely no guarantee who the winner will be however. A skilled player might miss something tiny or a new player might get incredibly lucky. There's a special thrill in knowing you might lose no matter your own skill level or that of your opponent."

"That's what makes chaos fun - that element of chance. Relying on skill will carry you to a point, but after that? It's all down to luck." Jazz grinned, a sharp gleam flashing across his visor almost fiercely before vanishing beneath a casual expression once again. "But I'm with you on preferrin' the type of gambling that at least incorporates some level of skill. Wagerin' on an outcome you can't influence at all is a little pointless."

"I'm glad to have someone on my side," Prowl commented as he placed his final piece and began flipping the claimed pieces. "I thought you might think so as well but it is good to have confirmation."

He went silent then as he studied the board for a few moments. "A very good game. 35 to 29, in my favor." His expression was bright as he looked back up. "You are good, even if you're new."

"Thank you, thank you," Jazz bowed comically in his seat. "Wanna play another game? I'll be black again."

It was much easier to clear the board without having to worry about sorting the pieces out by color. Theoretically they could have done it by holding the tray up to the side of the board and just sweeping them off the edge back into it, but to avoid any pieces missing and falling onto the table they picked them back up manually. After they'd finished, Jazz reset the four starting pieces. 

"Speakin' of wagers," he said, a fifth piece in his hand hovering over the board, ready to begin. "How 'bout betting on the outcome of the game?" He looked around, optics falling on the treats beside them. "We could play for those. Winner gets to choose the next goodie! You should pick a second before we start so it's fair."

"Interesting that you assume I'm going to agree," Prowl commented, teasing, "but I suppose that is fair. And a harmless little wager like this never hurt anyone."

Looking the sweets over, he eventually settled on a round one that looked to have been made with something melted on top and a few decorative metal shavings. "Go ahead," he said just before the goodie went into his mouth. The outer coating had no taste and melted almost instantly. The inner gel had a slight bite of acidic flavor however, and though his expression didn't change, the Praxian's sensor panels flicked up in pleasant surprise.

Jazz watched as Prowl made his selection and reacted to it. He'd noticed Prowl was much more expressive with his door wings each time they'd met recently than he'd ever been in the past. They were very mobile, and even though Jazz didn't have all the subtleties down, he enjoyed watching them.

Trying to be careful that watching didn't become staring despite his desire to do just that, Jazz dropped his gaze to the board. It almost didn't matter where he played first, since the outcome for any move would be the same except for the orientation of the pieces on the board. He went ahead and put his piece down in the same space as he had last game and flipped the captured piece.

They played the round in near silence. Perhaps it was because now Jazz understood the game or maybe they both were interested in winning. In the end, victory went to Prowl again, but it was by a slimmer margin this time.

"That is one thing I didn't consider," Prowl mused as he looked over the plate of goodies. "I only ever played against opponents on the internet so I had no reason to acknowledge the extra time required for flipping physical pieces."

"It does take a while, especially if you've captured a whole line," Jazz agreed. "I look at it as built in time to start considering your next move. Least that's what I've been doin', so I can play faster without leavin' you to sit there while I think." It had worked pretty well, too. If Jazz hadn't been able to play immediately after most of Prowl's moves, he had still managed to play quickly. Focusing on the game rather than conversation had resulted in him doing better as well.

"Guess I need to think harder next time though, since you won again! Go ahead and claim your prize!" He nudged the goodies towards Prowl with a finger. There were five left of the original nine. Jazz recognized two as being very sweet and a third as much more subtle, neither sweet nor sour, but the last two were a mystery. He wondered if Prowl knew what any of them were; he'd seemed surprised by the flavor of the acidic one he'd taken earlier that Jazz had been purposefully avoiding.

"That is a good way to look at it," Prowl agreed with a nod and flick of his wings. "Should we add loser clears the board as well?" he suggested as he looked over the tray of treats. Figuring the one that looked similar to one Jazz had claimed during his previous visit was probably sweet, he chose instead an elongated one that looked like a miniature log that proved to be bitter and spicy. It was unusual and caused his doorwings to flick in surprise once more.

"Sounds fair to me." Jazz reached over to pick up the tray of pieces, this time going ahead with attempting to sweep the pieces back in with the side of his hand. Some made it, but he was forced to stop as they began bunching up along the edge, threatening to spill over. He almost missed it happening, watching Prowl's doorwings flutter again, but he caught it just in time to switch to pulling them one by one with his finger off the side of the board instead.

When all but four were back where they belonged, he slid the remaining pieces back to the center and flipped the one odd one over so they had the starting configuration once again. "All right, third time's the charm - that means I get to win this one, right?"

Prowl chuckled. "It hardly works like that," he reminded Jazz as he allowed him the first move again. "But it's not impossible. In fact, I would be amazed if you didn't win one."

And Jazz did win one - just not that round. It wasn't until the following match he got his first win and claimed one of the two sweets he recognized after Prowl had tried the other unknown that turned out to be a tangy gummy. The next win was Prowl's once more and he left the goodie he thought was a sweet one in case Jazz should win again, enjoying the unexpected mellow complexities of the other remaining treat instead.

A couple moves into the last round, Prowl had a better idea and pushed the tray closer to Jazz at the start of one of his own turns. "You can simply have the last one. I've had more than my fill of them and it's unlikely I'll enjoy that one in any case."

"Oh? Don't think I can win it fair and square, do you?" Jazz asked, surprised. He knew Prowl could see quicker than he could who would win a given match, but they were only a few turns in. "It's a bit soon to be sayin' you've won already!" Not that he'd object to eating it. Prowl was right, he probably wouldn't care for it. Funny as it would be to watch him make a face at the sweet mica wafers and bright aluminum-infused gel hiding beneath the thin outer shell, Jazz would rather have it for himself.

"I'm sure you have a chance to do so," Prowl quickly backtracked. "I meant what I said about you likely enjoying it more, and that a few goodies really are plenty for me."

“Relax, I was just teasing.” Jazz picked up the treat, holding it up between them. "But if I just eat this now, what's the winner of the game get?"

Prowl paused to collect a piece and settle it in his chosen location and began flipping pieces over. "If we do choose to continue wagering at all, perhaps it can be winner's choice? Within reason of course."

"Now that's raisin' the stakes a bit." Jazz leaned back and looked at Prowl appraisingly. "You sure about that?" He grinned and brought the treat up to his lips. "I can think of all _kinds_ of things I could ask for when I win."

Not giving Prowl a chance to back out, he opened his mouth and bit through the outer shell of the treat, the thin wafers inside crunching audibly. "Mmm. Too late now," he said, savoring the taste. He was careful not to let any fragments of the mica escape as he finished it off, licking the last traces from his fingertips.

Redirecting his processor to the task of playing the game rather than wondering about what to ask for if he won it, Jazz thought seriously before playing his next piece. There would be time for that later, and despite his confident talk he only had one win so far. Prowl was the better player, and Jazz knew it. If he wanted a chance at victory, he couldn't afford the distraction.

"Nothing illegal nor causing bodily harm that won't heal," Prowl gave the restrictions as a formality, not because he expected Jazz to make that sort of request. He waited until his own turn to say it though, to prevent distracting him. He had enough advantage in the game already, it wouldn't be fair to push it like that. "I do trust you not to pick anything I would be morally opposed to however."

"Of course not!" Jazz said, glancing up at Prowl from his hunched position regarding the board. "I'll thank you for the same courtesy if you win, how's that?" Then, not wanting to let anything interfere with his strategy, he looked back down and reached for another piece. He passed over the first move he saw and the second as not being beneficial in the long run then passed over a third, but returned to it as the best of his options when the fourth proved to be as bad as the second.

Prowl's only reply was a silent nod and wing flick, with a soft hum of acceptance. Ignoring Jazz's latest play, he settled a piece in a spot Jazz could have claimed but which had more value to him, and gained four pieces for it. Pieces traded colors back and forth numerous times as they made additional plays until Jazz managed to lay a piece so that Prowl had no more moves he could make, allowing Jazz to claim a full three quarters of the board by the end of the match. 

"Well," Prowl started in a mildly bewildered tone. "I was certainly not anticipating that ending. Congratulations however."

"Thanks," Jazz said, sounding a bit stunned himself. "I honestly didn't think that was going to work until you kept not having any moves." He double checked to make sure there was no mistake. There wasn't - he had won.

Now all the delayed threads regarding what he could ask for as a prize swarmed back to the top of his processor trees, almost dizzying in their sheer numbers. Even with the limitations Prowl had stipulated, there were still so many things he could ask for! Something frivolous, something serious; something amusing, useful, or something… personal.

Jazz's vents stalled as he looked across the board at Prowl, gaze fixed on that beautiful face. _I could ask him for a kiss_. The thought struck him like lightning, but in its wake all the potential consequences of such a request rolled like thunder. What if Prowl was offended? What if he wasn't interested? What if he never wanted to talk to him again? 

_What if he thinks I'm just messing with him?_ That would be terrible, for Prowl to think he would ask for something like that as a joke. No; there were just too many ways it could go wrong. _I can't do it._

Which begged the question: what _could_ he do? Now that it was in his head, the idea of using this chance to find out if he _had_ a chance would not leave him alone. He just needed to figure out how.

"Jazz?" Prowl called out softly after approximately a klik of him silently staring. "Are you alright? I know it was a surprise but I have seen stranger wins. I was watching a match one time and one of the players managed to claim every single piece before the board was more than halfway full."

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. I mean it's not that, I can see how it happened and I understand how it played out. Looking back at it all the moves make sense, I just couldn't see that from inside the game, you know?" Jazz sighed, the sound louder than it should have been as his vents flared back open with a rush. "It's just, I was so focused on winnin' I didn't think what would happen after that an' now I'm tryin' to work out what to ask for."

"I see." Prowl understood. "Take as long as you'd like then. I know I would be having the exact same struggle." After a moment he decided to add, "If you'd like, I can go collect the high grade for us while you think?"

"Sure, that'd be nice." Jazz wondered how bad it would look if he were to chug the stuff as soon as Prowl brought it over. Downing a shot or two might make it easier to say something, at least! _Probably something I'd regret sayin' though_ , he thought, resisting the urge to groan. Then again, he hadn't exactly regretted anything he'd said last time. He'd only regretted that he hadn't gotten a clear reaction from Prowl. Even after managing to confess his feelings, albeit accidentally and with chemical assistance, he still wasn't sure what Prowl thought of those feelings, or if he felt anything in return. He _hoped_ , but he didn't _know._

Having already rejected asking for a kiss, Jazz also discarded the idea of asking if Prowl had meant to kiss him that night, or asking him what he thought of the idea of them kissing. _Wow, one-track processor much? Stop thinking about kissing!_ Jazz scolded himself. _Back it up! You're complicatin' things too much. Just ask him exactly what you're wonderin' - is there a chance? Is hanging out and getting together enough for him or could we… go on a date?_

Jazz had never asked anyone out before. What few hook-ups and liaisons he'd had in the very distant past had come to him, and none of them had meant even a fraction of what Prowl did to him. The prospect was terrifying, and Jazz was a mech who knew terrifying. But the fear of saying nothing and missing this opportunity was finally just enough stronger than the fear of making a mistake to tip the scales. He steadied his hands, gathered his courage, and waited for Prowl to come back to the table.

After searching several cabinets to find both the high grade and a couple empty cubes to drink it from, Prowl eventually found what he was searching for. It had taken a few kliks and sent him looking through more of Jazz's stuff than he had expected, but he reasoned that Jazz would have told him where to look if he was overly worried. It wasn't an intrusion of privacy if he had been given permission, even if the permission was only not specifically to open certain doors.

He made his way back slowly too. Jazz did seem decided, sitting almost at attention at the table, but he had no intention of making it seem as though he was rushing him. At last, however, he had set down the three items and settled himself back into his seat. "My apologies if I took too long," he offered with a low tilt of his wings that would have spoken of genuine sincerity to another Praxian. "I had to guess at which cabinets everything was in and your 'system' does defy all logic I attempt to apply to it."

"You didn't take too long. It gave me time to think," Jazz said, smiling over the crack at his cupboards. "Sorry I didn't think to tell you where to look. My 'system'," he said, emphasizing the quotations, "works just fine, if you know how it works. Though I'll allow there might be a tiny bit of room for improvement." There had been that falling cube from an overcrowded shelf the previous orn that had landed on an audial horn.

It took some restraint to pour reasonable rather than excessive portions into the cubes, but Jazz managed. He even managed not to down his all at once after handing the first to Prowl. After taking a healthy swallow, Jazz squared his shoulders and looked at Prowl. "All right," he said. "I've made my decision. As the winner of the match, I want… to ask you a question." 

Well that certainly had not been what Prowl had been expecting. Absently giving small thanks that he hadn't yet tried to take a sip, Prowl set his cube down instead. "All right. What is your question?"

"Honest answer, okay?" Jazz said, then rushed ahead. "That's not the question, just… please. It's a serious question. I'm being serious." His fingers tapped nervously on the side of his cube before stilling again, but he never dropped his gaze. "What do you think about makin' our next get together a date? Like, a _date_ date," he tried to clarify, not making much more sense. He drew in a deep vent and tried again. "I told you last time you were here, Prowler - you're special to me. And I'd like to know… if you would you consider going on a date with me?"

Prowl froze. Had Jazz really just asked that? Had he truly asked _that_! He couldn't actually mean it though. But he _had_ said he was being serious… and Jazz wouldn't be so cruel as to joke about something so sensitive so this had to be an honest offer. Except what if it wasn't and Prowl really had made that much of a fool of himself and this was the other’s attempt to brush past everything? Was it worth the risk to answer honestly, as Jazz had asked? Or should he refuse and miss his one possible chance to be with the only mech to ever captivate him so much?

Back and forth his thoughts raced, one after the other in a potentially endless circle for at least a solid klik before he finally forced out an answer by way of a feeble question. "W-would you want that?"

The question surprised Jazz, mostly because of how quickly it had come; relatively speaking, anyway. He had expected Prowl to take longer than that to respond after he didn't immediately shoot him down. It startled him out of his intense focus, since he'd been watching attentively for any sign of what Prowl was thinking as he'd sat there, still and silent.

He wasn't sure what that had been in Prowl's voice. Uncertainty and confusion, that much was clear. But had there also been just the tiniest measure of hope? Or was that Jazz's own hope distorting his perception, making him read more into the words than Prowl intended? Either way, there was only one thing he could say.

"Honest answer?" Jazz repeated his own condition. "Yeah." He let his EM field expand gently, not pressing but inviting Prowl to feel the sincerity in the simple answer. "Yeah I would."

Prowl was still again. This was almost too much to take in. Belatedly, he let his own field expand outward to show he was simply trying to think for a moment. This opened up completely new avenues of possibility and thought and he had a lot to process.

Eventually, he found his cube of high grade and managed to take a long sip from it. Only after it was back on the table did he speak. "I…" Or at least tried to. He had to stop, exvent deeply once, and then again, before he could finally get any words out. "I had hoped, but never genuinely expected to hear you say anything like that." A smile snuck onto Prowl's face when he made himself look up, even though his wings were twitching like mad behind him. "I would like that too…"

Torn between sagging in relief, jumping out of his chair with a wild cheer, or hiding in his room and shaking quietly in disbelief for a breem or two, Jazz settled on a beaming smile and doing his best to disguise the fact that he was physically trembling. In comparison to the way Prowl's doors were dancing, it probably wasn't all that noticeable.

"Mech, I never thought you'd want to hear something like that. Not from me, anyway." Some of his nervousness and doubt made their way into his voice, and Jazz took a fortifying drink. "I've never been more glad to be wrong!"

He gestured vaguely at the board, the smile still glowing on his face taking on a slightly wry twist. "So, have I used up my victory asking you if you'd be interested in a date? Or do I have to win again to actually ask you out?"

Prowl’s smile brightened as he answered, sensorpanels now moving in a slow but happy flutter. "No, I won't require you to win another round, though we can keep playing if you like?" He hesitated, but decided to keep speaking while he had a little momentum. "Alternatively, we could discuss ideas for our… for the date you suggested? Unless you're already considering something?"

"I gotta admit, I didn't have anything specific in mind when I asked, other than spending time with you." Jazz ducked his helm a little, embarrassed. "That's the part that really matters, after all." He spun the tray of pieces idly before looking up again. "Would you rather stay in or go out?"

"While typically I would prefer the former, I do also know that half the fun is in going out to do things together," Prowl mused out loud. "And I do trust your ability for finding activities to keep us both interested. At least if the city was fully populated. I don't know that there are many places we could even go or things we could do, but please do correct me if I'm wrong."

“There's things we could still do in the city, sure. Not as many as there will be again someday, but some.” Of course, one of the reasons for going _out_ on dates was so that others could _see_ you going out. Jazz didn't know how Prowl felt about going public, especially on a first date, but he wasn't sure he wanted to. What if it didn't work out? Better no one knew it had even happened, in that case. Then they wouldn't have to put up with any invasive questions from their friends or coworkers. Not that Jazz wanted Prowl to think he was embarrassed for anyone to find out about them. In fact, part of him wanted to hang caution entirely and announce to all of Cybertron that Prowl was his, everyone back off! And that he, Jazz, was off the market, thank you very much.

 _That_ thought brought up a potential mess that Jazz didn't want to touch with a ten-foot pole, or even a hundred-foot pole. _Nope, no way, not dealin' with that. The Constructicons do_ not _need to hear about this date!_

"Maybe…" He didn’t want to make a big production of it, but he _did_ want it to be special. "Maybe we could sort of combine the two? Go out to eat, then come back and stay in watching a vid?” Jazz smiled warmly. “I like the idea of having you all to myself."

"That does sound nice," Prowl replied with a soft smile of his own. His wings were still lightly fluttering too. "I'm afraid you'll have to supply the vid however. I have never been overly interested and thus I lack any collection of my own." 

"I've only been able to start putting together a real collection since the war ended, and there are a lot of old classics I doubt I'll ever be able to find again," Jazz said somewhat wistfully. "But I've managed to track down a few. Plus there's literally _thousands_ of Earth films in all kinds of genres."

“That certainly offers a plethora of choices...” Prowl thought for a moment and then also asked, "did you have a date in mind yet or do we need to work that out next?"

"How about the second orn of the next deca?" That was only three orns away, but Jazz knew it would feel like forever. “You pick the restaurant, I pick the movie?”

"That sounds like a reasonable plan." And it was, although Prowl was likely to stress out about the event by then. He could already feel doubt creeping in but he squashed it with excitement. Jazz was interested. _Interested._ In _him_. Or at least in a first date. There was only one other thing that needed to be said. "I accept."

“I’m looking forward to it already.” Jazz wondered if his face ought to be hurting by now. Every time he thought his smile couldn't get any bigger, Prowl made him even happier. He hoped he didn't look ridiculous for it!

Another consideration crept into Prowl’s thoughts. "What time were you thinking? And should I keep the entire orn open or will this only be an afternoon or evening event?"

"I was thinkin' we'd meet in the late afternoon or early evening out on the town then come back and watch a few different vids," Jazz answered. "I don't work the following orn until third shift, so I can make it a late night." Which was why he’d suggested that orn in the first place.

"I may have to adjust my schedule to accommodate a late night but otherwise that sounds perfect." Prowl’s return smile was almost as bright as Jazz’s. “I’m looking forward to it too.”

Agreeing to work out any remaining details later, they played three more rounds of Othello (all going to Prowl by a narrow margin) and finished their cubes of high grade before Prowl had to head home. He had a shift the next morning and did need to get some recharge. What little he could in between thoughts and fantasies centered around himself and another black and white mech.


	11. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here's their first official date. And what a disaster it is too... Another long chapter but there was a lot to fit in once these two get going. We hope you enjoy. ^-^

Although the rebuild was coming along nicely after the war, the number of choices for activities was still incredibly limited. Thus, Prowl had chosen the same café he'd taken Jazz to before as the site for the first part of their date. It was a generally calm place that sometimes even had music playing softly in the background for ambiance. The menu was good and pulled off having something for nearly all taste profiles, and there were almost always a few new things to try as they continued to expand their repertoire. All in all, it was the closest to an upscale establishment that existed yet post-war and one of only two places to serve energon with any real taste to it (the other being suited to a far more specific clientele).

And so he found himself in a booth there early in the evening waiting for Jazz to show up. They had confirmed the date and time in a comm the orn after their game once Prowl had been able to check and modify his schedule, but he couldn't help worrying Jazz wouldn't show. He had only arrived almost a joor early, knowing very well that he'd have to wait but hoping not to, and now as the kliks ticked slowly closer to their chosen time he was gripped by fear again. Jazz had to show up, he just had to. Right? He'd seemed genuinely excited but he _had_ been Special Operations so faking interest couldn't be that difficult for him. But why would he? Surely he wouldn't be planning anything cruel? Would he? Well, maybe that wasn't a fair question because of their minor falling out around the war's end, but they had moved past that. Hadn't they?

Prowl didn't know it, but as Jazz pulled up outside the cafe a few kliks before the designated time his processor was spinning with doubts and worries too. It was a little bit surreal, walking up to the place again. They'd just been here having energon together a few short orn ago. Nothing was different between that occasion and this except for a word, one single, solitary word. But that word, that label, changed everything. 

Jazz had barely been able to keep his circling thoughts under control since he'd onlined that morning, and was hard-pressed to stop himself from restlessly over-preparing. It had been several long joor of telling himself there was no need to clean his apartment _again_ , and that it wouldn't serve any purpose to keep polishing and re-polishing his armor until he wore through his finish. What he'd wound up doing instead was going over the vid selections and rearranging them what felt like hundreds of times trying to find the perfect order. 

He still wasn't completely satisfied with with the one he’d settled on, but time had run out and he’d had to leave for the café…and now, here he was. Hopefully Prowl was too. Actually shuttering his optics behind his visor briefly, afraid to look in case he wasn't, Jazz reached for the door and swung it open. Stepping in, he sent up a quick prayer and opened his optics to look around the room. The moment it took to spot Prowl felt like an eternity, but as soon as he picked him out, the panic building in his spark turned to joy.

"Hey Prowl!" he waved, striding smoothly across the room to slide in across from him. "I'm not late, am I?" He knew he wasn't; there was a klik and a half to go before their date officially began. Still, it worked as a way to open the conversation. Then, because this _was_ a date and that meant he could say it, "You look really nice."

Prowl's sensor panels, which had moved in a silent greeting as Jazz spoke, now fluttered slightly in embarrassment. He had, in fact, been in for a nice detailing the previous orn. He'd tried to rationalize the repaint as simply something he'd put off for too long (which he had) but the truth was that he'd hoped to look extra special and impress Jazz a little by putting in the added effort.

"Thank you," Prowl replied after a moment. "You do look nice as well and no, you're right on time." Even if Jazz had been late he might have said it. Pointing such a thing out would have been a bad way to start off.

"Thanks!" Jazz hoped the return compliment was genuine rather than a formality, but he wasn't sure. He still wasn't fully confident in his own appearance, despite his earlier efforts. Compared to the way Prowl's plating gleamed softly, colors rich and lines crisp and freshly touched up, Jazz felt that he must look dull by comparison. The fact that Prowl had both shined up and showed up was a good indication that he wanted to be here though, and Jazz focused on that happier thought instead. "I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"No longer than I knew I was risking," Prowl assured him. "It is my own choice on how early I tend to arrive." He offered a smile. "How have you been?"

"I've been a little busy, but otherwise good. Had a lot of new projects kinda sneak up on me at once and I'm tryin' to prioritize 'em around work." One of those projects, the most time consuming and highest priority, had been getting ready for tonight, but there had been others. Going over his vid collection again had inspired him to reach out to a few of his contacts again to see if anything new had surfaced, and he'd made some progress rebuilding one of the instruments in his workroom as well. "How was your orn?"

Running back through his morning and afternoon, Prowl drew a fairly large blank outside of the endless worries that he then had to squash once more. Jazz was here and everything was going well so far which meant many were already non-issues. "It was the same as always with nothing of any interest to note,” he replied with a subconscious wing flick to dislodge the last few remaining worries. “Unless you enjoy the finer details of datawork,” he added as a joke, given Jazz's propensity for avoiding it whenever he could during the war.

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?" Jazz teased back. "You got me all wrong! I _love_ datawork. I put a lot of time and effort into every one of my reports!" Of course, he'd spent even more time and effort avoiding doing said reports, and they both knew it. "Anyway, maybe I've changed. Maybe what I'm really doing for Blurr is accounting and inventory auditing." He managed to keep a straight face for only a couple seconds before he cracked and started laughing. "Or maybe that's complete and utter scrap."

Prowl couldn't help chuckling too, even as he continued the joke. "That's too bad. Here I was all excited to explain the need to document every detail of a routine traffic stop in triplicate by hand."

His humor was genuine and his mood bright, causing his wings to flutter slightly. Everything was going well and that helped soothe his fears. For a moment he even wondered why he had worried at all, given their history, but that brought the list of concerns back into his processor and Prowl had to quickly cut that thought thread. Perhaps things could still go badly but for now he would enjoy how nice the date was going.

"Sounds riveting," Jazz said, laughter winding down. "Honestly though, I like hearin' about how things are going for you at work. Not the fiddly details like filing systems perhaps, but how projects are coming along, if anyone's givin' you trouble, that kind of stuff."

Privately he thought that he wouldn't mind listening to the minutia that much either, anymore. It made a difference that he was no longer required to adhere to all of those regulations himself. Discussing a system in abstract, even clerical systems, could be fun - looking for weaknesses and loopholes and the like. Talking about rules he was expected to follow and the consequences for noncompliance was what got tedious.

Besides, if it meant he got to hear to Prowl's voice, Jazz wouldn't mind listening to the mech read a phone book.

"Just know you're not boring me when you talk about it," he said warmly before changing the subject. "Did you order anything before I got here? Or do we need to look at the menu?"

"Duly noted," Prowl said before accepting the conversation change. "And no, I haven't ordered yet. It didn't seem appropriate to do so before you showed up." He offered yet another smile. "Go ahead and look over the menu but unless you're interested in getting something strange for us both to try then I don't need one. I already have a couple favorites here, though nothing you might like unfortunately."

"Lemme guess, all the stuff you like is strong and bitter.” Jazz checked the selections. "Ohh, they've got a warmed one! I want to try that. Have you ever had this one before?" he asked, pointing to the description.

"Having a good strong taste does not make it bitter," Prowl countered but it was in good humor. He then turned his attention to the menu to read the selection Jazz had picked. "I can't say I have. The description is far too sweet for my taste and it would probably leave my internals mucked up with all variety of debris."

"Oh come on! That's going a bit far, don't you think? It's not going to gunk up anyone's lines!" Jazz made a face at Prowl for his remarks. "See if I share any with you now."

They each placed their order when the waiter came by a moment later. When the drinks arrived, Jazz made a show of how delicious his was as he took his first sip. "Mmm, you're missing out! This is reeeeally good!" He licked his lips exaggeratedly. "Too bad you don't know good energon when you see it."

Prowl laughed, a feat that was proving easy this orn but was still rare in his life when he wasn't around Jazz. "Just because most energon looks the same does not mean I can't tell when I taste it," he countered just as playfully. Then he took a drink of his own. "Like this one. Just perfect."

He held out the cube in a joking offering. "Would you like to try some?"

"Don't mind if I do!" He knew Prowl was kidding, but Jazz couldn't pass up the not-quite-dare. Aware he'd probably regret it, he reached forward anyway to snag the cube from Prowl's hand and took a quick sip before he could protest.

The flavor burst over his glossa with a sharp tang that made his whole mouth tingle. "Woah, what is in that?!" he asked, pushing the cube back at Prowl. It wasn't as unpleasant as he'd been expecting, but it was far from his preference. He drank again from his own cube in an attempt to wash the taste away, and was immediately sorry he had - the combination was dreadful! "Eugh, remind me never to do that again," he said as a shiver rolled across his plating. "They should put a warning on the menu not to mix those."

"None would think to consider mixing them given how vastly different the taste profiles are," Prowl stated. There was genuine concern in his tone and field when it reached out towards Jazz. "Are you going to be all right?"

Hopefully he hadn't just ruined their date. He should have known Jazz would be daring enough to try something like that. He also might have theorized that he would do something as unpleasant as trying to mix the two. He had known Jazz long enough that such a thing shouldn't have been as unpredictable as it seemed and it had made perfect sense as he watched it occur. Now he was hating himself over what should have been a preventable situation. 

"Ah think tho? Ow," Jazz lisped, the tingling from before actually beginning to burn a little. He checked the menu again and relaxed when he saw that none of the components of either drink were ones that would react dangerously when mixed. "Don' worry, I jus' hafta wait for it to fade, that's all," he said, unconcerned as the burning indeed dissipated. "I'm fine."

There was something almost familiar about the sensation, in fact… "Oh!" He brought his hand down on the table triumphantly. "Tinderbombs! You ever had one of those?" His visor brightened with excitement. "Feels like eatin' a Tinderbomb, 'cept they tasted better."

Tinderbombs had been incredibly popular at one of the bases Jazz was stationed at early in the war, back when such things had been available. The chemical composition of the candy was deliberately designed to burn when ingested, and someone had gotten the bright idea that being able to eat several of them at once was a sign of how tough you were. Fierce competition had sprung up in the ranks over who could keep the largest number in their mouths for the longest period of time without spitting them out. Jazz had thought the whole thing was ridiculous and refused to participate himself, but he'd watched several mechs determinedly burning holes in their mouths for the sake of momentary glory before medical had found out and banned the candy from the base.

All in all it had been a short-lived fad, and not one Jazz had been sorry to see go. It was an amusing memory now though as he related the tale to Prowl. "Hadn't thought about those in _eons_ ," he said. "Did any of the bases you worked at ever come down with a plague of that particular stupidity?"

"No," Prowl commented after considering it for a while. "I don't believe I've heard of that challenge before. Of course, I didn't socialize much by the time I had enlisted anyway, but it does seem the sort of thing one would hear about if it ended in a full ban.

"It is good to know you don't always take foolish risks though." Only after the words came out, intended as a compliment, did he realize they could be more readily seen as an insult. Prowl dropped his gaze in embarrassment that the low tilt and slight flicking of his wings betrayed. 

"Not always, just sometimes." Jazz looked at Prowl with concern as he seemed to wilt. "What's the matter? Something I said?" Quickly he tried to think of what could have upset Prowl. _Maybe it's cuz I started talkin' about the war? Way to pick a fun topic…_ "We can talk about something else." He hoped they could anyway. Jazz felt like an idiot for his stunt with the energon now. He wrapped his hands around his cube, not quite ready to try another sip but the warmth of it seeping into his fingers felt good, at least. "I'm sorry."

"No, don’t be! You didn’t say anything wrong," Prowl insisted quickly and rather emphatically. How could Jazz think it was his fault? Even though his volume dropped just a little softer, his wings kept twitching as he made himself continue. "It was my own fault and I apologize for insulting you."

"Insulting me?" Jazz repeated dumbly. That was unexpected; he hadn't heard anything that sounded offensive. "When did you insult me?"

Prowl's tone was as confused as Jazz’s and his answer wound up morphing into a new question of his own. "When I was… You really didn't notice? I suppose it doesn't matter then, if you didn't even think I was insulting you…"

It took a moment for Jazz to take that in, and when he did he had to stifle a snicker. Whatever Prowl thought he had said before, what he just said now was pretty bad too. Given how distressed he seemed over the whole thing though, Jazz decided not to risk making things worse by pointing that out, even in jest. _Looks like we’re both over-analyzin’ what we’re sayin’._

Shaking his helm, Jazz slid one hand from his cube across the table, seeking out Prowl's. "No, I didn't think you were insulting me. All I heard was some good-natured teasin', which I'm perfectly capable of taking. No harm, no foul." He smiled reassuringly. "Relax, Prowler." _And relax, Jazz_ , he echoed in his processor. _This might be your first date together, but it's hardly your first conversation._

Prowl let Jazz take his hand and glanced down at their entwined fingers. Then he gave a gentle squeeze and returned a smile of his own, looking back up to Jazz's face. "As long as you're sure..."

He was struck, once again, by just how beautiful and amazing this mech was and how lucky he was to be friends with such a wonderful spark. He squeezed Jazz's hand again as fear gripped his own spark at the prospect of losing the other once more if this didn't work out between them. "We're not making a mistake by trying this, are we? I'd rather keep you as a friend forever than lose you because we took a risk that failed horrifically."

Jazz's hand tightened on Prowl's, feeling a similar constriction deep inside. "I don't want to lose you, either. Not again," he said, the words emerging thick with emotion. "But," he continued, his voice steadying, "now that it's out on the table, I'd rather know if we can make this work than give up before we even give it a chance. Fear of failure is not a good enough reason to sabotage success."

Prowl stared at Jazz for a moment, analyzing him and his words. The moments stretched out until he slowly pulled his hand away and started to stand. He didn't speak as he rounded the table and even his wings were held as steady as he could manage. Once he was on the other side of the table, he took the seat beside Jazz and only then did his sensor panels flutter nervously as he put his arms around him in an awkward embrace.

"I want this to work too," he stated softly, but still plenty loud enough for Jazz to hear easily. "There is nothing in the universe that I want more…" Prowl shared, with his processor oh so unhelpfully mentally tacking on _and it terrifies me to be so close in case it all collapses…_

When Prowl pulled his hand away and stood up without a word, Jazz had thought he was going to leave. It wasn't rational, it didn't make sense in the context of what he'd just said, but he couldn't help it. So many thoughts were running through his processor that he couldn't keep up, he could _feel_ the lag, and he couldn't manage to utter a single syllable. Should he beg him not to go? Should he respect him and let him walk away, even if it killed him inside to do it? But then Prowl was coming _closer_ , sitting next to him, _hugging_ him! 

Forgetting that they were in public and anyone might see, Jazz melted, fitting his frame against his and returning the embrace tightly. "Ditto," he choked out, ducking his helm against Prowl's plating. "Oh Primus, please don't let me frag this up," he whispered, not fully aware he'd spoken out loud. It was a long moment before he raised his helm again to look up at Prowl, his visor glowing over-bright and trailing faint plasma ribbons as he moved. "Let's make it work then." He smiled, lopsided and a little bit wobbling. "We should be smart enough to figure it out together, right?"

"Right," Prowl agreed. He hesitated a moment but then brought a hand up to hold Jazz's helm in place as he brought his own close, until the center of his chevron touched the same location on Jazz's forehelm. It was a sparkfelt gesture and he held them together like that as he spoke again. "Perhaps our first step should be to find out what works for us. This 'normal' arrangement seems far too formal with too high of expectations for us to ever get properly comfortable with one another, and I think you feel it too. Why is this orn so different from the previous time we were here? Why does it feel so stressful now?"

"You noticed that too, huh?" Jazz said, tilting his helm into the contact and making no move to pull away. "I'd been thinkin' on that since I walked in the door. It's the exact same activity but it feels completely different, and I think you've hit on the reason right there - expectations." He broke off, considering. "Actually, I take that back, it's not completely different. The wanting to spend time with you part is exactly the same."

They did need to deal with that problem of expectations though. "I think that's a good idea, figurin' out what we want for us instead of just doin' what's traditional. Unless there's a tradition we both happen to like," he amended, not wanting to outright eliminate any possibilities just yet. "For what it's worth, I don't _expect_ anything from you. There's things I'm _hoping_ for, sure, but not all at once, and you don't suddenly owe me anything you aren't comfortable with. Is that less stressful?"

Surprise and momentary confusion filled Prowl's field before Jazz's meaning clicked. Then it shifted to mild embarrassment. "I didn't mean to suggest I had those sorts of expectations of you either," he promised. "Although that is a conversation we should have some orn… I suppose I meant it as personal or situational expectations; the idea that I should be different or the occasion would be special simply for the fact of what it is.

"I swear though," Prowl stated, pulling back enough for their gazes to meet so Jazz could see his sincerity. "I wouldn't want anything from you that you weren't willing to offer either. As it is, I have two lists. The first is things I'm hopeful for, and this," he hugged Jazz just a little bit tighter, "is a good start on the 'casual friendly contact' item. The second is everything I'm not ready to consider yet but might be interested in, should we find that we do work out. We are still a long way from interfacing, for example, unless that was something you were hoping to have occur sooner? I'm certainly not prepared for that tonight, but if you were then I could make that my next consideration."

Jazz wasn't surprised that Prowl had made up lists, and even found it oddly endearing. "I wasn't organized enough to write mine down; I’ll have to do that later." He squeezed back. "I can tell you without even botherin’ that bein' anything other than yourself ain't on either one though."

He glanced down at their current position and then back up. "This and other forms of 'casual friendly contact' are okay by me," he said. "As far as interfacin' goes…" Interfacing wasn't actually something he'd given too much thought to, having not even considered it within the realm of possibility until very recently. Thinking about it now generated a simultaneous _Primus, yes!_ and _No! Too fast!_ "…that'd be something to discuss more another orn, yes." And something to think about later, rather than now. Jazz put it out of his helm for the moment, focusing on something he was completely comfortable with instead. "But for the record? I wouldn't have a problem with 'minor romantic gestures'."

"So no intentionally erotic contact yet," Prowl summarized with a smile. "That is easy enough to accept. Are there any spots on your frame I should take care to avoid then? For myself it's the obvious. Although intention does matter, touching my wings generally falls under the heading of 'romantic' or 'sensual'. A less commonly known area that has the same connotations is my chevron."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jazz smiled. "Intent’s a lot more important than location with my frame for touching - brief versus lingering, still versus stroking, you know?" He freed a hand momentarily and brought it up to tap an audial horn lightly. "These bein’ the obvious exception in my case. These, or my face." His cheeks heated slightly at the admission. "That and my visor counts as a bit more than casual too."

"Limit contact with your helm then. That should be easy enough to remember." Prowl smiled again. "Would you like me to start on my lists, or would you prefer to explain what you consider ‘minor romantic gestures’ first? Because I would like to know before I accidentally overstep any boundaries."

"I want to know what's on your lists," Jazz replied. Hearing what Prowl had already thought of might bring up things that hadn't occurred to him, given how thorough the mech was. "But first, lemme just say somethin' about those boundaries. 'Limited contact' don't mean you need to _avoid_ my helm completely, all right? What you did before was nice, and totally in the category of minor romantic gestures." 

It had been very nice, actually. Part of Jazz wanted Prowl to put his hand back on the side of his helm, to feel his fingers curling around the back as he brought his own helm down to touch- "Wait. You said contact with your chevron is romantic?" he blurted out. "How romantic?"

If Cybertronians could blush… Right in that moment Prowl was exceedingly glad to not be human with that particular tell of embarrassment.

"It does depend," he tried to explain without showing how awkward he suddenly felt. "Most gentle contact can be considered a romantic gesture but something like twisting or bending the metal obviously isn't. What I did before… well," he paused to consider the best wording. "Pressing your chevron to another's, or in your case where one would otherwise be, is especially intent sensitive but was generally considered an affectionate action. The meanings can range from simple appreciation of a friend's existence to the love between bondmates. It is even applicable between creator and creation."

Jazz listened, his mouth gaping open slightly in surprise as Prowl described the range of possible meanings and how deep some of them went. "Oh," he said softly, wondering which Prowl had been thinking of when he'd done it. "So, it's like kissing."

He'd spoken without thinking, and as quietly he'd said the words, they somehow felt far louder. "Which would be fine! Is fine! I don't mind - I mean, I'd hoped we could, maybe, not right away if you didn't want to, but that's kind of what I meant by - you probably didn't mean it like that, I'm just - look, tell me right now if me babbling at you is going to be a problem because apparently I can't seem to stop doing it lately."

Forcing himself to stop talking, he clamped down quickly on the flicker of frustration and embarrassment that made it into his field. Why did that keep happening? He never had trouble keeping up a cool exterior on the job or talking to anyone else. _Would’ve gotten me killed if I couldn't. Bet he's wonderin' what happened to that mech and who left this screw-up in his place_.

"Jazz…" Prowl drew out the designation slowly and steadily, going for a calming effect. It didn't matter that he was feeling the exact same stress Jazz was now showing or worse. Well, admittedly, it was nice to see he wasn't the only one handling it poorly but that was a cruel thought and he deleted it quickly. All that mattered now was helping the other relax.

"It's all right," Prowl promised. "I can handle a bit of babbling. I did help raise Bluestreak after all."

"Heh, now there's a comparison," Jazz snickered in spite of himself. "Blue's great, but I hope I'm not quite that bad!" He paused to vent in deeply, fortifying himself. "Remind me it's all right if I start up again, would you? You mentioned situational expectations and whether I was expecting you to be different before; I think maybe I'm worried that I'm being different and you won't like what you see. Or hear, as the case may be."

"I've seen you in many different states over the countless vorn," Prowl reminded him. His wings flicked a few times as he spoke, revealing his nerves and possibly more. "And at the risk of embarrassing myself, I have not yet seen a form of you that I either did not, or could not care about. Yes, even that occasion with the assassination attempt you saved me from."

Perhaps he should have noticed something then, when Jazz had practically torn the 'Con to pieces. But the spy had been dropping by for a debrief on the mission he'd recently come back from and they had both written off the uncharacteristic violence as a factor of that. It was far from the first such incident where a member of Ops had become involved in something too soon after their last mission ended. In any case, seeing the hints of Jazz's feelings for him even then was easy now, in hindsight.

"If anything should have scared me away, that was probably it."

"That was not one of my better moments, no," Jazz admitted. He'd felt terrible about that at the time; not so much for what he'd done, but that Prowl had seen it. There was a difference between knowing intellectually what his job entailed and actually seeing it in person. He had been worried about frightening him, and more than that, afraid Prowl would lose trust in him for his loss of control and lack of professionalism. It had taken a long time for him to stop berating himself over what he had perceived as a failure, even if he'd successfully stopped the assassination and there hadn't been any official reprimand.

"Hearin' you say that means a lot. Really. It's not embarrassin', it's sweet." Jazz smiled. “I'm glad it didn't scare you away,"

"There was no reason it would have," Prowl reassured him. "I had seen more disturbing remains even before the war and it all happened so fast that I never did figure out exactly how everything happened." Not that it was necessary to know nor did he intend to ask Jazz as he had likely been working too much on instinct to have accurate memories.

Just then something drew his attention outside their small bubble and with a solitary wing flick, he was reminded there were others around. Not many yet, but they were hardly alone. He spoke his next words quietly. "Should we finish up our energon so we can leave or would you prefer to continue our discussion here, in public?"

"Oh! Yeah, no, let's finish here and talk more afterwards, sans audience," Jazz agreed. He was sort of shielded in his current position between the wall, the back of the booth, the table, and Prowl, but it was only an illusion of privacy. Anyone sitting close enough, or with sensitive enough hearing, could pick up their conversation if they wanted to listen in. And Jazz was definitely not ready for any of this to wind up as grist for the rumor mill.

He reached over to grab his cube, frowning slightly as he picked it up. "Hmm, maybe I'll ask if they can rewarm it a little. I didn't mean to let it get cold!"

"That is, in part, my fault," Prowl commented. "If I hadn't distracted you then you would have had the opportunity to properly consume it."

His gaze drifted over to what was left of his own energon then across the room as he considered something. "I suppose I should move then… and since I'm getting up anyway, I could find a worker to ask?"

"Please," Jazz nodded. "It was really nice when it first came out. You know, before I messed it up with my impromptu mixology." He laughed. "At least waiting like that means that awful taste isn't still lingering in my mouth!"

"Perhaps leave that to the trained professionals next time," Prowl teased as he stood. Taking up Jazz's cube and, after a moment of hesitation, his own, he headed up to the front counter.

After a couple kliks he returned and set Jazz's energon before him. He placed his own across the table as he offered a cautionary warning. "You might want to wait before attempting to consume that; it could be overly warm now."

Jazz tested the side of the cube carefully with his fingers before picking it up. "Think you're right," he said, bringing it to his face to feel the warmth radiating off it. "And having already burned my mouth once tonight, I think I'll forgo a repeat." Still, it felt nice in his hands. 

He watched as Prowl situated himself again across from him and smiled. "So, having said what we _aren't_ going to talk about - what do you want to talk about?" he asked playfully. "You said nothin' much happened at work for you these past few orns and there wasn't much excitement at the bar either, but we could always speculate on how badly the upcoming karaoke themed night is going to go." The surface of his drink rippled as he laughed. "Engex-drunk tone-deaf bar patrons aside, I can already see plenty of problems cropping up with the extra equipment Blurr's asked me to rig for the night."

Prowl considered that for a moment before speaking. "I suppose it would depend, is this his idea or did you decide to steal it from the humans and convince him of it? Because if it's the former then things may go fine. However, if the latter is true then there are bound to be countless complications.”

Wings tilted high and out, Prowl gave Jazz a smile that might have been more of a smirk. All signs of friendly, casual teasing. "You can't simply improvise everything in your life after all."

"Hey!" Jazz exclaimed, drawing back and pulling an exaggerated hurt face. "I resent your implications!" He didn’t sound angry at all, however, and was already grinning again as he cautiously sipped his drink. "Mmmm, that's wonderful. I'm going to have to remember this one. Anyway, I'm expecting to have trouble with it - some of the equipment ain’t exactly in great shape. I might be able to hook up a sound system like that by myself, but if I got mechs who can't tell an input from an output tryin' to 'help' me with it… yeah. Not so much."

Taking Jazz's cue, Prowl tried his energon too. It was still a bit warmer than he would prefer but no less good. "I take it you can't simply restrict them from attempting to assist then? Hovering as you give directions would take up too much of your time and end up slower than if you did it yourself, I suppose. Hm…"

He took another sip from his cube as he considered the situation. "Is there anyone with previous knowledge or enough skill who you could accept help from this time and allow the others a chance in the future?"

"I'd take Blaster's help in a hot nanosecond," Jazz said easily, "but he ain't on the crew. There's one of 'em I think I could train up given enough time, but he and I don't share many shifts and he won't be there when I'm doin' most of the setup this time around, so that's a no go too."

He sighed, taking a longer pull of his drink. "I'm gonna try to keep them out of it, but if anyone gets real persistent, I'll have to try to find something harmless for them to do. Then of course I'll have to do a sound-check on the actual night to make sure no one made any 'adjustments' to my work while I wasn't there to stop 'em," he said, frustration seeping into his voice. "Well-meaning help, isn't."

"I would offer my aid if I thought I could actually be of any use but I likely understand the systems even less than any of them."

"Ah, but you wouldn't be actin' like you did to impress me," Jazz countered. "If you had a question, you'd ask it instead of guessing. And I know you're a quick study; you'd do better than you think, I'm sure." Truthfully he wouldn't mind Prowl helping - he might not have a lot in the way of prior knowledge or experience, but he was someone Jazz knew he worked well with and his presence would deter any other would-be assistants.

There was just one thing wrong with the idea. "I'd take you up on that offer if I wasn't pretty sure Blurr would have a problem with it.” Jazz might get along with Prowl just fine, but Blurr… didn't. Not wanting to dwell on the reasons for that rift, Jazz continued. "'Course, if you really wanted to learn something about sound rigging and AV equipment, I believe you told me your place is in need of an upgrade."

Right. The bar did belong to a former soldier who still had his grudges. Prowl couldn't say he blamed him, even if those grievances were in the past. "I suppose that could be a problem," he agreed simply, then moved on. "You would hardly be upgrading anything if there's nothing there to begin with." Sad perhaps, but true, and at least Jazz would only tease him slightly over the lack. "And as interesting as I think working together on that project might be, I do think I'll pass for now. You seem busy enough as it is and I wouldn't want good equipment to go to waste on someone who won't use it."

“All right, but one of these orn I'd still like to get you set up properly," Jazz said. "And it's not a waste of equipment. It'll probably take me a while to pull everything I'll need together though; we can put it on the long-term calendar, how's that?"

Jazz took another drink, realizing as he set his cube back down that it was already more than half empty. He'd been drinking it quickly, and he laughed internally at himself. _Careful, someone might think you're in a hurry to leave_. Which he was, but not because he wanted to get away from Prowl; more like he wanted to get away _with_ Prowl.

"I suppose if you intend to do so regardless of my opinion on the matter I may as well agree." As negative as that may have sounded Prowl intended it completely differently and offered a smile just in case. "But I do have one condition."

"If you reeeeally don't want to accept what I'm offering to do for you, free of charge, completely out of the goodness of my spark, to make your place a little nicer, then I _suppose_ I could be persuaded to let it go," Jazz joked back. "But let's hear that condition first."

"Well it certainly won't get used much if left up to me," Prowl replied. The teasing held in his tone for the first part but slipped a little in the latter portion. "So you're only allowed to set it up if you promise to visit and make sure it gets plenty of use."

The warmth Jazz felt inside at that request had nothing to do with the heated energon he'd been drinking. "Deal," he said simply, letting his field expand outward happily to express what he didn't say out loud.

He toyed with the cube in his hands briefly, tilting the remaining liquid up the sides and watching it slide back down. "I'm lookin' forward to showin' you the joys of a proper entertainment system when we get back to my place tonight."

Prowl let his own field reflect the same happiness in return and the smile returned to his features. "And I cannot wait to see your skill in rigging electronics put to good use. So long as you don't decide to sample the sound to your entire block."

"Aww, they don't mind! My block loves me!" Jazz laughed. In truth he was no stranger to noise complaints, though there was in fact some measure of soundproofing in his apartment. Most of it was in the workroom rather than the main room, however, due in part to a lack of materials when he'd done the initial installation and partly as a concession to certain security features that weren't compatible with full soundproofing. Let the neighbors tell him to turn the music down on occasion; it wasn't like he blasted the speakers anywhere near as often as mechs accused him of doing.

"Don't worry. Contrary to popular belief I do know what indoor volume is," he reassured Prowl. "I'm not gonna invite anyone to knock on the door and tell us to keep it down or deafen you with it."

"Forgive my selfishness, but I am less concerned about others as I am my own comfort in this instance." Prowl’s wings flicked of their own accord, following a subconscious command that he didn't even notice. "It can take nearly a decaorn to recover after exposure to too intense of sound vibrations, especially over a prolonged period. Otherwise I have to take an entire orn or two off and spend the time in near silence or run on minimized sensory input until my systems normalize."

"Yikes. I'd feel awful if that happened," Jazz winced, wondering if he should be offering an apology for anything in the past. He knew Prowl's wings were vulnerable to sound, but that was more crippling than he'd realized. "Have I… done that to you before?" He hoped not, but now he was worried.

Another flick, although that might have still been from the topic rather than the question. "Not specifically, no," Prowl replied. "I did, however, keep my sensitivity turned down for the majority of the war following an incident long before we met that was more embarrassing than harmful. Given the extreme decibels combat reached, it seemed the most practical solution overall. Even a solitary noise, if unanticipated and loud or sharp enough, can momentarily stall my systems, but there are workarounds for that. And the conditions do need to be fairly extreme."

"The war was certainly good for extremes, if nothing else," Jazz muttered. Of course Prowl had been operating on lowered sensitivity; Jazz had been forced to continually adjust and modify his own systems and inputs to survive too. Still, he felt badly at the thought that he might have contributed to base conditions being too loud for Prowl to be able to take a break and relax.

Assuming he would have; Jazz had rarely been able to relax completely even in situations where most mechs had thought that he was. Old habits so deeply ingrained that the short span of time since the war had ended couldn't possibly erase them meant that he still couldn't always manage it, in fact.

Jazz wrenched his processor away from that depressing line of thought. "I'm glad you don't feel the need to take those precautions all the time anymore," he said, focusing on the positive. "What constitutes a comfortable range for you?" As long as he knew what the upper decibel limit was, he could make sure the loudest part of the soundtrack wouldn't exceed it.

Prowl pinged him a list with various decibel ranges, which he then took to explaining. "The first set is where I function most comfortably within while the second is the full range I know I can handle for an extended period without any problems. The third and fourth are the lower and upper ranges, respectively, where temporary exposure has no lasting repercussions, beyond being unpleasant. Anything above or below the outer limits can be problematic with the last set being what I believe my absolute limits to be. Anything beyond could theoretically cause immediate and devastating damage."

Perhaps with anyone else he would be more careful about how much he shared on the sensitivity of his systems, and in the war he most certainly wouldn't have shared this much this readily, but it was different now. He trusted Jazz. He always had, but the circumstances had been far different before and now it didn't feel right not to reveal everything.

Automatic protections and encryptions surrounded the data as Jazz stored it in his processor. He was both surprised and a bit humbled by how detailed Prowl's answer was; specs like that would have fallen under the category of highly classified not so long ago. Promising silently that he would keep them safe, he brought up the specs of his sound system to compare them.

"All right. My stereo may be top-notch, but it ain't weaponized." Well. The stereo in his _living room_ wasn't weaponized. Parts of his internal sound systems still were, but that wasn't what they were discussing at the moment. Jazz made a note to add new conditional threshold warnings to the operating protocols for those systems for when Prowl was near anyway. "It's not capable of reaching anything in or above that fourth bracket, and it wouldn't hold out through anything in the third for long. Neither would my neighbors' patience, for that matter," he said with a smirk before his smile turned genuine. "Keepin' it to the first two's no problem."

Most of the selections he'd made for tonight were what Jazz considered on the quiet side already. There were only a couple of places the soundtrack would cross over into the second tier where he'd left the system set.

"That's good to know," Prowl remarked with an appreciative dip of his wings. He took a drink of energon then spoke again. "You aren't required to share, but is there anything that any part of your frame is especially sensitive to? If I didn't know you, I would think your audials would have similar limitations as my wings, but considering the volume of music at parties you hosted during the war, I would say that's rather thoroughly debunked." 

"They, ah, do have their limits," Jazz admitted, wanting to return Prowl's gesture of honesty despite the unease it caused him. He knew Prowl wouldn't hurt him with the knowledge anymore than Jazz would use what he had just revealed against him. "They can take a lot of noise, sure, but too long at your fourth tier or above would damage me too. Plus, there's certain frequencies that can cause severe damage much more quickly even at speaking volume." 

He sent over a short list of numbers arranged into two columns. "First ones're just painful to listen to, though 'just' is a relative term since the kind of feedback it generates can trigger widespread processing errors. The second'll do that and destroy components too delicate for self-repair to restore full functionality to." Jazz cringed, remembering the last time that had happened. He'd been off active duty for decaorns waiting for the parts and a medic with the training to perform the procedure to be available. "Only way to fix 'em is to strip 'em out and replace 'em. Not fun."

"No, I don't suppose it would be." Prowl had had to go through his own share of delicate component replacement surgeries and it was never a good time. The surgery itself one was usually offline for, but the intermittent waiting was always horrible.

After studying the lists, Prowl saved them in a secure, unnamed file near where his own limitations were. Even if anyone got far enough into his processor to get that information there was still no indication of what it meant. "I do thank you and am honored by the fact you chose to share this with me," he said after he’d finished. "I'm sure it couldn't have been easy for you."

"Likewise," Jazz said softly. "It's hard to let go of caution when keepin' secrets is what kept you alive for so long." Part of him wanted desperately to talk about that, to ask Prowl what it was like for him adjusting to civilian life after all they'd been through and whether his own difficulties were normal. Now was neither the time nor the place, however.

His drink was almost gone. Jazz took a shallow sip, wanting to make it last until Prowl caught up. "You're one of the only mechs I'd trust that with, you know."

"Understandable," Prowl agreed to the first although it could apply equally to either of Jazz’s statements. "And you are the first I have ever given that complete list to, although parts of it I did only learn through unfortunate incidents."

He sipped at his own cube again as he considered a new topic. A short while later he set both the energon and a new thought on the table. "I know it is a bit early to discuss this already but in the interest of not forgetting later, shall we discuss possible ideas for our next date?" He hesitated slightly at the word, scared to bring back the awkwardness it had evoked initially.

Having spent so much time preparing for and worrying about this date, Jazz hadn't put a lot of thought into their next one yet. He rested an elbow on the table, chin in his hand as he turned his processor to it now. "Well, we're gonna still have game night in a couple of orns, right? Maybe at your place this time?" he asked hopefully. "And if we're still on for a whole orn at the end of the decaorn, how about findin' a place to drive? Been a long time since I've gone racing."

Prowl's wings perked at the last idea. "In our free time late into the first post-war vorn, the enforcers worked together to clear out a section of land for our own racetrack. It's nothing too incredible and certainly not racer quality, but enforcer tracks were known to be the next best thing to them before the war. Of course, access was restricted to enforcers and their mates to prevent overcrowding but we haven't yet created similar restrictions now seeing as it's still a secret from the general public."

He offered a smile. "I certainly haven't visited nearly as often as I should so I could invite you along as my guest, if you'd like?"

"Are you serious?!" If there'd been more energon in his cube Jazz might have spilled it in his excitement. "Prowl, I'd _more_ than like!" The only functioning track that he knew of was the rehab track at the main medical facility, which was obviously not an option for the kind of driving he had in mind. "What do I have to do to get that invitation?"

Prowl couldn't help his amusement at Jazz's enthusiasm. It was hardly a surprise, given the overall interest in racing that most of the populace had. They would likely see an exponential increase in new recruits applying if the general public ever learned about the big secret in the enforcer training structure.

"Presently the only way to way to be allowed in is if one of ours escorts you, but perhaps in the future we'll devise some sort of guest list." 

"Good thing I got an escort then!" Jazz laughed, looking at Prowl's enforcer emblems. "The best there is," he added, grinning widely. "I'm already looking forward to it!" He knocked back the rest of his cube, trying to pull his thoughts back to the present from where they were attempting to take off racing already. "Game night comes sooner though, and you didn't say whether we could do that at your place this time," he pointed out. "What do you think?"

Prowl's wings were fluttering by the time Jazz complimented him and that wasn't the only reason. By Primus, but he was excited for this idea as well. None of the other modern enforcers had the same driving skills or specs he did so even when he did visit the track there was no challenge except his own previous times. He hadn't been able to race an opponent with actual skill in a long time.

"Yes," he answered to the latter question, "I believe we did discuss alternating who hosted game night so that is perfectly fine." It did also mean he had to look into some sort of treat for the night since Jazz had provided well for them so far, but he would worry about that later. "And if your driving abilities are as good as the war suggested then racing will be _fun_."

"Oh, I'm good," Jazz said confidently. "Sneaking's not the only thing I do well. You'll see." His engine hummed quietly in anticipation, knowing Prowl was just as good. The question was, which of them was better?

The answer would have to wait, however. In the meantime, they had other equally enjoyable activities planned. Jazz spun his empty cube on the tabletop. "So, your place it is next time. You about ready to head back to mine tonight?"

"That sounds wonderful," Prowl agreed. He did still have some energon in his cube and hurried to finish that. There was a swallow and a half left, and once his cube was finally empty he set it down and stood up. "I'm ready if you are. We can decide what time to meet later, unless you'd rather discuss that on the way?"

"Sure," Jazz agreed, standing up from the table. "Let's settle the tab and go. We can talk while we drive."

They left the café together, hashing out the remaining details almost before they got on the road. That gave Jazz the chance to start giving some background on the first vid he'd selected as they finished the drive back. By the time they arrived, all there was left to do was cue it up and hit play.

Jazz had rearranged his living room somewhat earlier. He had moved the couch from against the wall to the middle of the room, positioning it in front of the screen. The table and chairs were pushed back to make space for it, so there was plenty of room to walk around.

Grabbing the remote for the system, Jazz tried to be casual about settling himself on one side of the couch. "Join me?" he asked hopefully, readying the offer to pull the chairs over instead just in case.

"You do like your comforts, don’t you?" Prowl gently teased as he took up the other side of the couch. Due to his wings, he had to either lean forward the entire time or sit at an angle towards the edge so they could rest on and above the armrest. "I will admit however, that this should make for a nicer seat over a prolonged period. How many videos did you pick out for us tonight again?"

"Haven't we earned a few comforts?" Jazz asked, though he wished he'd had time to find furniture better suited to Prowl's frame. He had an idea what he wanted to get, but he needed a little more time to check out a few options before he bought anything. "Sorry it's not as comfortable for you as it is for me. I'm working on that."

"It's nothing to worry yourself over too badly," Prowl commented. "It's not easy to constantly consider the needs of alternate frame types and you are right in any case. We do deserve some comforts now that we're all working on the complicated task of rebuilding this planet. This is still far nicer than anything we had for a long time."

The way Prowl was sitting at an angle created a gap between his side and the back of the couch. Jazz wondered if he would fit, curled against him with the Praxian's arm draped over his shoulder. Worried that Prowl wouldn't appreciate being crowded, however, he settled for shuffling just close enough for his near foot to barely tap Prowl's leg. "I put seven tracks on the playlist, figuring we've got time for maybe three. They're all about the same length, I just put on a few extras in case you wanted to skip one."

The small point of contact was nice but Prowl wished his frame didn't come with quite so many complications. He certainly wouldn't trade it for anything, but it would be nice to be able to sit closer to Jazz. He had to be careful to keep that frustration from slipping into his field though, seeing as the other was definitely close enough to feel it. He didn't want Jazz thinking he was disapproving before they even began watching anything. "I'm certain your selections will be just fine, whatever they are. You do have a knack for reading bots even if you've just met them, and you and I passed that stage a long time ago."

"We did at that," Jazz smiled. "You did say watching vids wasn't your usual thing though, so I figured it couldn't hurt to have a backup plan. Or two. Or three." He laughed. "I've talked so much about the first film I've probably spoiled it all for you and we could almost start by skipping that one!" Aiming the remote at the receiver, he pressed the button to start the movie.

"No, that's all right," Prowl was quick to state. "It does sound interesting and you said it was one of your favorites so I don't mind watching it anyway. Maybe I'll even fall as much in love with it as you are." The expression that crossed Jazz’s face at that was more than worth the potential embarrassment of saying it and made Prowl incredibly glad he'd chosen to speak up. 

There was just one more matter to address now and as the vid began. "Do you intend to remain over there all evening?" The couch back slightly hindered the motion of his wings as they flicked in his nervousness. "Because I wouldn't mind if you came closer again."

"You wouldn't?" Jazz's fingers loosened on the remote, not quite enough for it to fall but enough for it to dip and indicate his distraction. "I didn't want to assume," he said, a hint of eagerness in his voice. "But I wouldn't mind at all."

Slowly he inched closer across the cushions, bringing more of his leg into contact with Prowl's but stopping shy of moving all the way over to lean against him. "This okay?" he asked. The hand not holding the remote snuck in just a fraction closer. "How about now?"

"If that's as close as you wish to get, then it will be fine," Prowl commented. "My movement options are limited but I do not mind if you came closer." He hesitated a moment and then added, "how we were for a while at the café was nice."

The brush of Jazz's field warmed and his smile softened. "It was," he agreed, reaching for the back of the couch to lever his way up onto it fully. Curling his legs up on the cushion he'd abandoned, he tucked himself into the space he'd noticed earlier, letting his frame come to rest against Prowl's.

It took a little bit of careful shifting to find the best position, but he didn't fidget long. Angling the back cushion of the couch helped, and soon he was half-sitting, half-leaning against the Praxian sharing his sofa. "There. Not quite the same, but still nice." He was very glad of his flexibility; without it, their configuration wouldn't have been possible. "Put your arm over me?"

Prowl obliged with a soft smile and brought his arm up to settle behind Jazz's helm and across his shoulders. It might not have been the most comfortable he had ever been physically, but the added emotional aspects certainly skyrocketed this to one of his favorite moments of all time. "No, not quite the same," he agreed softly as a character he decided was 85.78% likely to be the main protagonist came onscreen. "But there is almost nothing I would trade this situation for."

"Almost nothing, huh?" Jazz sighed contentedly, turning his helm to watch as the lead met up with his trusty best friend on the screen. "I don't know if I can think of anything I'd trade this for right now."

Prowl simply smiled, wisely keeping his thoughts to himself. The only trade he might accept would be for anything he hoped was in their future, but saying so might put pressure on the situation and he refused to cause that kind of strain now.

The film played on while the two watched together. Jazz occasionally interjected a short bit of commentary but mostly they watched in silence, optics focused on the screen. His attention wandered from time to time, listening to the hum of Prowl's engine rather than to the movie, but he figured he could be forgiven for that. As long as he'd been dreaming about this, he needed the reassurance it was real. Prowl got his chance to do the same during the second film, which centered around a plot he didn't fully understand. He didn't say anything in complaint because Jazz was enjoying it and used the excuse to spend most of his time covertly watching the other instead and simply enjoying their proximity. 

They ended the night on a story focused around a too simple plot with overly exaggerated circumstances where a mech was trying to win the attentions of a long time friend through increasingly ridiculous ploys. It even earned a good laugh from both when Jazz commented that at least they weren't _that_ bad.

After the mech finally got the femme and the third film ended they reluctantly got up so Prowl could leave. The separation did come with some hesitation, but they both needed to recharge and Prowl had an early morning the next orn. It wouldn't be long before they saw one another for their next game night.

It couldn’t come soon enough.


	12. Pieces Falling Into Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to show off the rest of the game boards. And trust us, we'd love a set for ourselves if anywhere actually made them so cool and gorgeous.

"There we go - last one!" Jazz called out as he carefully extricated himself from the bank of equipment behind the stage. He had to maneuver delicately around the tangle of trailing wires. Even if stepping on them wouldn't break them, it could disconnect them from where they were plugged in. Twice he'd had 'assistants' pull exactly that stunt, and the second time the leads had gotten mixed up badly enough he'd almost had to start over entirely. Fortunately Blurr had found something else to occupy the over-eager mech after that, leaving Jazz to finish on his own.

"Let's hope it works this time. Sound check!" he announced to the others working on the set dressing nearby then crossed his fingers as he powered up the makeshift karaoke machine. Sound poured cleanly from all of the speakers; no interference or dead spots. "All right!" he cheered, and a few of the stage hands broke from their tasks to clap briefly. "That's the way it's supposed to happen!"

Shutting off the unit, Jazz started making his way over to the edge of the stage. "Nobody touch it, you hear me?" he warned, mock-glaring at a few of his co-workers who grinned back good-naturedly. The sharp look he gave his erstwhile assistant was serious, however. "I want to find it still workin' like that when I get in tomorrow!"

He vaulted over the side of the stage to murmured assurances, extremely glad to be done for the orn. His scheduled shift had been over almost a joor ago and he was ready to get out of there. _Make that a full joor and some change_ , he thought, checking his chronometer as he packed up his gear to stow back in subspace. At least that meant it was probably late enough in the orn to try calling Prowl.

He'd wanted to call that morning actually, but he knew the Praxian was already ensconced in a series of meetings by the time he'd gotten up. Prowl had mentioned it the previous night, their first game night at his apartment, which had gone very well. They'd played and talked through several rounds of Othello, switching to try tafl as the night wore on before ending the evening with Go. The last match had been the longest, lasting almost a full joor before culminating in Prowl's first victory at the game. It was later than they'd meant to stay up by the time they were finished, however, and Jazz had forgotten to take the instrument he'd brought along show Prowl when he left. 

He'd realized his mistake as soon as he got back to his apartment, but hadn't wanted to call and disturb Prowl's recharge. It wasn't a big deal - the tiny vibro flute was safe enough on the shelf where he'd set it after his demonstration - but he wanted to keep working on it. Jazz was proud of getting it to the point where it could make sound again at all, but the upper register still wasn't properly in tune. With any luck, Prowl wouldn't mind him swinging by quickly to pick it up. He’d need to find a chance to ask the mech though.

That chance came even sooner than he expected. 

"You really weren't kidding about unhelpful helpers, were you?"

Prowl stepped up to the stage, and Jazz, after getting his attention. He held himself in much the same rigid stance he had during the war but it was also softer in a way. Perhaps it was the setting and circumstance, or perhaps it was in the way his sensor wings weren't held under such stiff control and even flicked in a greeting motion Jazz recognized. One of their discussions last night had landed on cultural differences and somehow rolled into Prowl explaining simple wing motions: affirmative, negative, greeting and dismissal. Simple enough movements, but very conditional based on the tilt of one's wings and situational circumstances. 

The contextual information had been too much to even begin to try getting into, so Jazz couldn’t have read the positive/cheerful tilt and know just how happy Prowl was to see him. "Hopefully they listen,” the Praxuan continued. “That does seem like quite the mess if it had to be fixed later."

"Hi! I was just thinking about callin' you," Jazz said, his own happiness not nearly as subtle as Prowl's. Both his smile and his visor lit up immediately upon noticing his presence, and he waved back a return greeting with one hand as he placed the last tool in subspace with the other. "It really would be, so they better not if they know what's good for them."

Straightening from his crouched position near the floor, Jazz stood and walked over to join Prowl. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your freaky good timing?" He nodded back over his shoulder. "Did you come to intimidate everyone into leavin' my hard work alone?"

"I doubt my presence will help much given I have no authority here and the timing is not as amazing as you think." Prowl offered the hint of a smirk as he continued. "But perhaps I shouldn't point out that you were too preoccupied to notice me over the past not-quite half joor."

"I'd take that as a courtesy, yes." Jazz put his hands on his hips. "In my defense, I spent most of that buried backstage testing sound levels and filtering static." He did feel somewhat embarrassed that he hadn't noticed him when he'd come back out until Prowl had announced himself, but hoped that wasn't too obvious. "Anyway, it's good timing 'cause I've got a question for you. Unless you wanted to tell me why you stopped by first?"

"I'm surprised you don't even have a guess," Prowl commented. His attention was split between the conversation and their surroundings, and while they were the focus of a few nearby bots no one was near enough to catch their full conversation. Still, he dropped his volume just a bit lower as he offered a teasing commentary that Jazz might find more embarrassing than amusing.

"Your old skills must be slipping," he stated with a habitual lowering of his wings to suggest he meant no harm or offense. "You don't know everything anymore, you're missing details, and even forgetting things." He reached into his subspace and pulled out the flute he had found just before leaving that morning. He held it out carefully in both hands. "I do believe this is yours."

"You found it!" Jazz reached out to gently take back the flute. "That's why I was going to call you." He looked down at it in his hands, his shoulders slumping slightly. Prowl's words had been playful, but the combination of oversights was making him feel unsettled, even though they were harmless. The weight of several pairs of optics was doing nothing to help him let the joke slide either. "Thank you for bringing it," he said quietly.

“You're welcome." Prowl returned just as quietly. 

Jazz glanced back up, first at Prowl and then meaningfully over his shoulder at the door. "I was just on my way out, which I suppose you already knew. You coming?"

"Of course," Prowl replied as he nodded once for Jazz's sake although his wings flicked in the affirmative too. "I had hoped that was your intention but I couldn't be sure."

"It was my intention a joor ago," Jazz sighed, heading for the exit. "Honestly though? It could've been worse. I found several bad connectors and three dead speakers when I started that all had to be dealt with before I could even start on the real setup." He held the door, motioning for Prowl to precede him.

"Sometimes equipment just goes bad in storage, other times it doesn't get put away properly…" he shrugged, following and letting the door fall shut behind them. The area outside was fairly empty at the moment; this street didn't start getting busy until later when the bar opened for business. Jazz felt his spirits rising again and he smiled at Prowl. "I've rigged more with less, but it takes time. And not being interrupted."

Prowl was about to reply but before he could even online his vocalizer his comm line buzzed at him for attention. What might have been words turned into a soft exvent instead. "And naturally now is when someone needs my attention," he sighed without even checking the incoming data. There was amusement mixed into his show of irritation however. "Half a joor free and nothing, but as soon as I try to have a conversation then some new recruit goes and shoots himself in the leg or something equally ridiculous. The mech claimed to have fought in the war too."

"Maybe he just had a good officer who kept him from getting killed," Jazz suggested, laughing at the timing of the call. "Does this mean you have to leave, or is it something you can take care of quickly over the comm?"

"True," Prowl replied, "and hopefully it can be handled from here. I haven't checked who it is yet."

Just then the team link flared to life as well with a flood of irritation and an undercurrent of mixed interest, amusement, and excitement. It was exceedingly unusual because the Constructicons had spent almost the last almost in a subdued work mode. Prowl exvented deeply again. Apparently his time would be everyone else's this orn. 

"Give me a few kliks?" he asked, not waiting for Jazz to verbalize an answer and focusing inwardly to answer his comm. To his surprise, the irritation almost completely vanished across the link at the same moment. Prowl didn't get long to ponder that because as soon as he opened his end of the line the other mech began speaking.

::There you are. We were starting to think you were still working.::

::Hook,:: Prowl greeted him, almost questioning but not quite. It did make sense now; they had been annoyed he wasn’t answering his comm. 

His response might as well have not been heard however, for all the attention Hook paid to it as he kept talking. ::Hopefully you're already home relaxing. If you are then don't worry about getting up now. We just want you to know we've completed those other game boards for you. You can stop by anytime to collect them.::

::I see. Will you give me a moment?:: Prowl heard the vaguely affirmative answer as he shifted his focus again to Jazz. "I was wrong, it wasn't work after all. Our game boards are finished and ready to be picked up. If you're not busy, we could go do that now?"

"That was Hook then?" Jazz guessed. "Better than the office, for sure." He tilted his helm thoughtfully. "Only thing I had planned was to see if I could pick up the flute and work on it some more. You saved me the trouble of the first, and the second'll keep." He placed the flute delicately in his subspace and announced, "I'm good to go."

Jazz was impressed the boards were done already and was looking forward to seeing them. Getting to pick them up with Prowl was the icing on the oilcake. This way he wouldn't have to wait to check them out and he'd get to spend time with Prowl. It also meant that he'd get to spend time with Prowl together with the Constructicons, and that was a dynamic that had him intensely curious.

"You tellin' him we're on our way?"

Prowl nodded as he spoke, wings flicking in the affirmative. "I will be, if you give me a moment."

He switched back to the comm line. ::I'm not working currently but I am out so I can stop by now. We should be there soon.::

::We'll be waiting.:: Hook's acceptance was followed by a fairly swift closing of his end of the line.

A mix of interest-excitement filled the link at the back of Prowl's processor almost immediately after, followed just as quickly by varying notes of surprise and confusion. It was weak enough that he could easily ignore the sensations though and he returned his full attention to Jazz. "I didn’t want to assume what your intentions were before I could ask. They are expecting us now."

"You never fail to be considerate." Jazz stepped down to the street. "Shall we then?" He slid easily through the transformation to his alt mode, revving his engine in place. ::You lead, I'll follow. I'd hate for you to have to write me up for speeding!:: Not that he would be so careless, but driving behind Prowl had the advantage of affording him a nice view on the way over.

Prowl followed after, folding down into his altmode moments after Jazz. ::Considering I'm not on shift currently, I'd probably simply comm someone else to intercept our path and ticket you instead,:: he teased as he merged onto the empty road.

::Oh, and a big difference that would make!:: Jazz laughed. ::We'd still be delayed and I'd still have to pay the ticket.::

They continued their banter about traffic misdemeanors on the drive out to the med center. It was fun for both of them, Jazz trying to come up with scenarios where someone - not him, he insisted, all very hypothetical - might get away with a violation and Prowl figuring out ways to counter Jazz's ideas. It was similar to some of the mission planning discussions they'd had during the war where Jazz would try to poke holes in Prowl's strategies so that he could patch them before they could be problematic. It didn't get verbalized, but they both preferred this more innocent version of the mental exercise and kept it up until they reached the building.

Prowl might have lead on the road, but Jazz was the first to transform back onto his feet, rolling through his transformation sequence without coming to a complete stop first. He grinned cheekily at Prowl, silently daring him to comment. 

"Is anyone waitin' for us up front or are they all in back again?" Jazz glanced at the door, not seeing any sign of the tell-tale green and purple from where he stood. 

"They haven't said," Prowl replied after deciding against saying anything about Jazz’s antics. He hadn't been able to decide between playful scolding or genuine compliment so this time he remained silent. "I suppose we can make our own way in and we'll see if they intercept us." He headed towards the door, leaving Jazz the choice to either stay behind or follow him. 

It wasn't much of a choice, and Jazz sprang swiftly after Prowl, catching up with him just inside. "Looks like they skipped the welcoming committee," he said, looking around before they started walking again together. "Good thing we know the way."

The Constructicons were all waiting when they arrived at the workshop, not spread around the room like before when Jazz had visited but grouped closer together to one side of the room. They appeared to have been talking amongst themselves, but they had all looked over to the door right as they reached it.

Jazz waved. "Hi!"

/ _Jazz!_ / The collective thought rang happily and loudly through the team bond. Scavenger spoke first before any of the others could stop him. "Hi! It's good to see you again!"

/ _See, I was right_ ,/ Bonecrusher shot at the rest. / _He_ was _with Jazz_./

/ _You couldn't_ know _that, you were just guessing_ ,/ Long Haul retorted.

/ _But you wanted me to be right_./

Mixmaster ignored them both in favor of acknowledging Prowl. "Glad you were free to stop by. And you as well," he added to Jazz. "We didn't want you to have to wait longer for the boards when we took so long finishing them."

/ _That's enough fighting_ ,/ Hook scolded the rest of the team meanwhile. / _We don't want to be more of a distraction_./

Indeed, the sudden outburst at such close proximity had woken the bond in Prowl's processor with a vengeance, battering at his blocks. It was not so bad that he couldn't focus or reply, but he did stall temporarily before giving any sort of verbal response as he recollected himself. "Skilled work should not be rushed," he commented, wings flicking erratically a few times with the words. "I would not have been surprised nor opposed to waiting even several more decaorn for the quality of pieces all of you produce."

The pause in Prowl's reply was noticeable to Jazz and he hung back a bit to watch him, deciding to let Prowl lead the conversation. With any luck it would keep the Constructicons’ attention a little more on their boss and less on him. Their verbal attention, at any rate, since he could hardly miss the way they were staring at him.

Long Haul noticed him noticing. / _Hey, knock it off! You'll get us in trouble with the boss_./

/ _But_ you're _looking too_ ,/ Scavenger protested. / _If you get to look, then we should be allowed_ -/

/ _What did I_ just _say?_ / Hook cut in irritably. / _Stop fighting, and stop staring. Or at least be a little less obvious about it_./ He didn't sound like he was holding out much hope for that though. "We appreciate that," he said out loud. "I can assure you, we wouldn't rush a job just for the sake of a timeline and deliver an inferior product."

"But we're not going to drag our feet on something important either," Mixmaster said, clearly viewing the construction of the boards to be just that. "Besides," he said, pride swelling in his voice, "it was a unique challenge."

"We are grateful you think so," Prowl replied. His wings flicked in thanks to match his tone. "And even more so that you were willing to fit such a frivolous request in between the more important renovation projects."

Noticing Jazz's lack of interaction, Prowl decided not to allow his team too much time to stare at him and he moved the conversation along. "Do we get to see them now?"

"Well of course," Bonecrusher said gruffly. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"We hope they live up to your expectations as well as the first one did," Hook added. "The boards are of course designed as component parts of a cohesive unit."

"Meaning they're supposed to look like they belong together, even though they're different." Scavenger said helpfully. "They do all look really nice on their own though."

"Of course they do." Mixmaster angled himself to look back at his teammate. "That's part of the design too, to stand on their own as well as being part of the set."

There was a brief lapse in the conversation at that point, which signaled to Jazz that they were debating something. Probably which board to start with, if he had to hazard a guess. ::Can you hear what they're sayin' right now?:: he asked Prowl on a comm channel much more heavily encrypted than the one he'd been speaking over on the road.

If Prowl was surprised by the comm, he didn't show it. ::I'm only receiving general feelings right now,:: he shared. ::Hook and Mixmaster agree but are in direct opposition to Long Haul while Bonecrusher seems to be undecided. Meanwhile Scavenger is too excited and being completely unhelpful. If I focused I could probably get their exact conversation but they aren't projecting it currently.::

::Gotcha.:: That was what happened when they'd first come in then, Jazz figured - projecting. It hadn't lasted long and it had been obvious, which made him feel better. Not that he hadn't believed Prowl when he told him they wouldn't be having private conversations over his helm, but physical evidence was still reassuring.

The Constructicons didn't notice any sign of the conversation going on over their helms, or rather, under their noses given their size difference. They were too busy with their own internal argument.

/ _That one should be last_!/ Long Haul insisted. / _It's more elaborate than the others, and you're supposed to save the best for last_./

/ _That one's not more elaborate, it's just more colorful,_ / Mixmaster countered. / _This one should go last_./

/ _How does deciding which board to show them last help with which one goes first?_ / Bonecrusher said, frustration building. / _Does it really matter that much?_ /

/ _Presentation is important_ ,/ Hook said assertively. / _And if this one is last, that one can be first_./

/ _Oh, come on, can't we just pick one_?/ Scavenger's question intruded impatiently. / _I want to see what they think!_ /

/ _We're trying to_ -/

/ _That's what we're-_ /

/ _ALL RIGHT. Here's what we're going to do_ ,/ Hook spoke over Long Haul and Mixmaster, shutting down their protests. / _This board will go last, but that one can come second. We'll start with the other one_./

Mixmaster's corner of the bond radiated triumph while grudging acceptance came from Long Haul. / _Agreed_ ,/ they both said, one voice considerably more subdued than the other.

With that settled, Hook reached under the counter for the first board and brought it up, holding it so the back faced Prowl and Jazz. "They all have the same mechanism to attach them to the base," he began, pointing at the catches. "This allows them to attach to each other as well in any order beneath the original board so they can be easily transported together. You see?"

He flipped the board over and indicated the connection points on the top cleverly concealed within the geometric pattern of the border, but that was hardly the most attention-grabbing feature. What drew the optic was the series of shallow depressions arranged in a six-pointed star over the face of the board. The circular indentations making up the points were the same six colors of the two-sided pieces from the set, while the center indentations did not match the color of any of the pieces. The background was another color entirely, which made the spaces stand out more visibly for easier gameplay.

Spaced between the points were six circular depressions larger and deeper than those making up the star itself. Each had a decorative ring in one of the six colors in a border around its edge; prisons for captured pieces. Elements of the subtle decoration of the original board were repeated in the open spaces and created a patterned edge around the star, highlighting it.

"Impressive.” It almost went without saying, but Prowl felt the need to vocalize at least part of his commentary. The rest was easier and more natural to do in silence; the approving flick of his sensorwings and the sharing of his interest, curiosity, and approval across the team bond. His wings did tilt into a questioning angle though the longer he studied the board. There seemed to be something different in a few places but he couldn't quite place what exactly. It was likely another design aspect however, and if it mattered he knew his team would explain it.

"No kiddin'," Jazz breathed, stepping in closer for a better look. Only Prowl was close enough feel the controlled enthusiasm in his EM field, but the Constructicons could still see in his expression that he was impressed too. The positive responses pleased them greatly, though they tried not to be too obvious about it.

Scavenger wasn't entirely successful. "There's more to it!" he blurted out before Hook had a chance to continue. "Watch!" He reached for the board, excited to demonstrate the extra feature. Hook deftly moved it out of his reach as Long Haul put a hand on the eager mech's shoulder to pull him back.

/ _Hey!_ / Indignation flashed through the bond. / _I just wanted to show them!_ /

Hook shot a withering look at Scavenger. / _That's what I'm doing. Wait your turn - you and Long Haul can have the next one_./ He turned back to Prowl and Jazz and took up where he'd left off. "Right now the board is configured for a game with 10 pieces of each color. However," he said, putting the board down carefully between them, "there is another setting."

He tapped on two points simultaneously, causing the segments making up the edge of the star to shift. Another series of depressions was revealed with the new pattern, expanding the star and increasing the play area without changing the overall size of the board. "This one is for 15."

Prowl couldn't help complementing them for the ingenuity, both with sensations across their link, and verbally. "Clever… The buttons are practically invisible even when you know where to look and there's no seams to give it away otherwise. Does it shift back the same way?" he questioned, curious.

"It does." Hook slid the board closer so Prowl could try it himself. "It's not as impressive as the first board perhaps, but it keeps it from being static." A sense of pride at the accomplishment accompanied the seemingly deprecating comment, strongest from Hook but present from the others as well. They had all worked on each of the additional boards to varying extents and as such had a shared interest in them being well received.

"The first one is really somethin' to watch," Jazz said, remembering how much fun it was to play with. "This's neat too though - they're slidin' instead of spiralin'."

Mixmaster nodded. "Hook and Long Haul worked that out. I made sure the colors were right." That had actually been rather difficult, because he'd run out of one of the necessary alloys partway through. Creating another batch that matched the previous one perfectly had taken several tries. It had been one of the final finishing touches when he'd gotten it right.

"Do you like it?" For once it was Bonecrusher, not Scavenger, asking the question everyone was thinking. It was directed mostly at Jazz, since Prowl's approval was undeniable.

"Right now I'm with Prowl," Jazz replied. "I would have expected to wait a lot longer for work like this. And this's just one of three extras!"

Prowl accepted the board and examined it more closely as the others spoke. The conversation was nothing he couldn't track easily without completely focusing on it after all. He did spend a few moments just looking before pressing the buttons and watching how it shifted back down to ten starting spaces. The mechanism was simple enough, knowledge he didn't know he had informed him, although he certainly didn't know enough to be able to build it himself.

He shifted it back up as Jazz was speaking and let him finish before asking something else of his own. "I take it the configuration of spaces doesn't matter when it comes to stacking this board with the rest then?"

"Nope - that's why we made it so the board didn't get bigger when it changes," Scavenger explained. "It'll fit either way so you don't have to worry about it!"

"With this one you do though," Long Haul said, bringing out the next board amidst a flurry of silent commentary.

/ _Hang on, what are you doing?_ /

/ _That's not what Hook said came next_!/

/ _I thought that one was supposed to be last_./

/ _Back off, he was asking about fitting them together so it makes sense to do this one now_./

The Parcheesi board revealed when Long Haul moved his large hands out of the way had much more pronounced color differences between its four sections than the six subtly different points of the star. Each corner had a decorative sigil sitting on a field of its own distinct color that wound its way through the matte spaces of the outer track to form the home paths. Smaller, less ornate sigils than those for the nests marked the safe spaces, while the one over the home space in the center was even more elaborate.

They weren't true glyphs and didn’t read as words, but there were elements to the nest sigils that were reminiscent of different Cybertronian cities. Hints of Iacon, Kaon, Polyhex, and Praxus lay hidden in the otherwise purely decorative designs at the four corners of the board. The sigil in the center was not as subtle; while still unreadable as a word, the design was plainly evocative of Cybertron itself.

"With the board like this, it will stack with the others," Long Haul told them. "In its secondary setting, it won't."

Jazz was too busy staring at the board to look up, but his words were perfectly audible. "There's a secondary setting? What could it possibly do?" There was awe in his voice as he reached out to trace over the 'Polyhexian' nest lightly with his finger.

"Want to guess?" Scavenger asked. "See if you can spot how to trigger it! Either of you!"

"It doesn't seem to expand like the first," Prowl commented as he studied the board. The special significance for the almost glyphs was distracting and it was hard to tear his attention away to examine the rest. At least in that aspect he seemed to be doing better than Jazz, who appeared thoroughly transfixed. He did offer questioning in his field where it met his but didn't anticipate there would be any answer. "You said that it's unlike the previous board so that only leaves… up?" he theorized out loud. "I don't see how that works either though."

"Up, huh?" Jazz echoed, an idea beginning to form. His expression sharpened as he focused his attention more closely. "Like stairs, maybe?"

"You're both on the right track," Mixmaster nodded. "You can see how that would get in the way of stacking them."

"Nooo, I can't. All I can see right now is a flat board," Jazz pointed out jokingly. He poked carefully at a couple of different points, trying to make something happen.

"The mechanism isn't on the track," Long Haul said, his tone almost indulgent as they all watched Jazz's careful study and experimentation. His attempts weren't random, but so far he hadn't succeeded in finding the right trigger.

"It wouldn't make sense to have it somewhere the pawns could accidentally cause the board to change mid-game," Hook explained. 

"Need another hint?" Bonecrusher asked.

"If it's not on the board it would have to be along the edging or the side," Prowl commented. "Although, if it were on the sides then there's the risk of potentially triggering the mechanism when they are stacked. Or is that something you accounted for, assuming it's even a risk at all?"

"We accounted for it," Hook said, slightly affronted at the thought that they could have made such an oversight.

Prowl offered a nod and flick of his wings at Hook's statement before offering the sense of muted apology through the link. It had been foolish to question the integrity of one of their projects.

"He didn't say it wasn't on the board," Scavenger put in helpfully. "He just said it wasn't on the _track_."

Privately the Constructicons took bets on who they thought would find it first. Long Haul, Mixmaster and Hook were of the opinion that it would be Prowl while Scavenger firmly believed it would be Jazz, and Bonecrusher agreed with him. Curiosity and anticipation filled their collective EM field and their bond as they waited to see who was right.

The whole thing felt odd to Jazz, and it took him a moment to realize why. The Constructicons weren't trying to trick them or hoping they would fail - they thought it was a fun challenge and were hoping they would succeed. Their presence wasn't threatening or needling, it was encouraging.

It was also distracting. Jazz pushed his awareness of it aside to consider the puzzle in front of him. What on the board wouldn't be disturbed accidentally during a game? The background of the board was unornamented, the four quarters nothing but simple, solid colors except for the sigils surmounting them. Those would have pawns sitting on them periodically, as would the home space, so it wouldn't be smart to have pressing any of them be the trigger… but what about turning them?

Each sigil was round in shape, encircled by a narrow ring. Feeling triumphant, Jazz placed two fingers on the home sigil and gently pushed in opposite directions. Nothing happened. Jazz frowned; he'd been sure that was it!

Behind the table, five pairs of hands twitched as the Constructicons started arguing among themselves again.

/ _Couldn't we just…?_ / Scavenger pleaded, the visual (fantasy) of one of them (him) reaching out to place their (his) hand over Jazz's smaller one to turn the sigil the other way lancing through all of their thoughts, its origin indeterminate.

/ _No _./ Hook's response was firm, despite the fact that he'd had to stay his own hand. / _No one is touching him_./__

/ _But he's so close_!/ Close to figuring out the board or physically close to them, it was impossible to tell which Scavenger meant. They were all thinking both. 

/ _So's the boss_ ,/ Bonecrusher reminded him. / _He might not like that_./ 

/ _Why not?_ / Mixmaster said, taking Scavenger's side. / _We'd just be helping_!/ 

/ _We don't have permission,_ / Long Haul answered, backing Hook. / _Unless you want to ask him if that wouldn't count as 'too much'?_ / 

/ _Just_ what _are the lot of you planning_?/ Prowl questioned through the connection. He'd been hit by the visual imagery too, powerful as it was, and only after pulling himself out of it had he been able to realize it was most certainly not his own thought. Leaving Jazz to continue the challenge uninterrupted, he had turned inwards to speak with his team. 

/ _Nothing!_ / Bonecrusher said quickly. / _We weren't planning anything_./ 

/ _He almost had it,_ / Mixmaster said. / _We were just going to help a little bit._ / 

/ _No, we weren't,_ / Hook insisted, both to Prowl and his teammates. / _It wouldn't be appropriate_./ 

/ _You don't know that_ ,/ Scavenger countered. / _Long Haul said we should ask, so - aww, it's too late now,_ / he lamented. Disappointment resonated through the link as Jazz moved his hand away from the home space to tap his chin thoughtfully. 

/ _Is it? I don't know, maybe we could still_ -/ 

/NO./ 

Prowl's wings twitched at the intensity of that refusal but he made no other outward displays. / _If none of you are planning anything then where did that image come from? Don't think I didn't notice,_ / he warned, fixing a knowing look at each one of them in turn. / _And it was too strong to just be one or two of you_./

/ _…_ / 

/ _…_ / 

/ _…it was more 'thinking about' than 'planning on',_ / Scavenger finally said after a long collective pause, fidgeting slightly. 

Long Haul turned away, unable to meet Prowl's optics. / _We didn't mean for you to see that, it was just… something we were all thinking about,_ / he said, borrowing Scavenger's term. 

/ _No one was going to do anything_ ,/ Hook said, a touch of regret clinging to the words. 

/ _We just… wanted to touch him_./ Mixmaster admitted, dropping his helm to avoid Prowl's gaze as well. 

/ _Is that so bad?_ / Bonecrusher asked. 

Prowl allowed his wings to lower at that. He really couldn't fault them for wanting that as he had the same desire. Even after the few times he had been allowed that close, he still craved the nearness. Even just the thought made him want to step closer to Jazz now. 

But he didn’t. Instead, he blocked off those memories so his team wouldn't think he was trying to taunt them. Only then did he reply. / _I know the desire may be strong but it is in your own best interest not to try. He still doesn't really know any of you and I would think that none of you wish to find out what happens when a Special Operations agent thinks they are under attack._ / 

That statement was met by a flinch from all of the Constructicons, mental and physical. Some managed to be a little more stoic than the others, but between their drawing back and Prowl's door wings shifting there were more than enough hints to clue Jazz in that something was going on. 

Without angling his helm, Jazz glanced sideways at Prowl and regarded him carefully. Whatever they were talking about, it certainly looked interesting from what he could see in their frame language and fields. There was no way to know the details without any detectable transmissions to intercept, but Prowl had promised; if he asked, surely he'd tell him if it was about him.

He almost interrupted over comms to find out, but then thought better of it. Deciding to let them finish now and to ask Prowl later, he looked back to the board. Turning the sigil had seemed like the perfect answer… perhaps he'd just tried the wrong one?

As they all watched Jazz begin trying each of the nest sigils, Hook was the first to speak again. / _You're right, of course, we wouldn't want him to misinterpret our intent._ /

/ _Yeah, we don't want to scare him,_ / Scavenger said.

/ _Or get hurt_ ,/ Long Haul and Mixmaster added almost simultaneously. The reminder of just what Jazz was cut through the blind attraction enough to restore a sense of caution in all of them. Just because they wanted to hold Jazz's hand didn't mean they wanted to lose their own.

/ _Good,_ / Prowl stated with a single nod and a decisive flick of his wings. He might have been responding more to their feelings than their words but the intent was not too dissimilar. / _Then you will restrain yourselves or face the consequences. And after that I will deal with any surviving troublemakers._ /

The prospect of Prowl following up on anything Jazz might dish out had all five of them hurrying to send assurances that that wouldn't be necessary. The desire to not disappoint Prowl or have either mech think badly of them was just as strong as the healthy concern for their continued physical well-being. There was a definite note of apology coming from all of them for the whole thing as they respectfully backed off, turning their attention outwards once more to Jazz, this time without any intruding fantasies.

Nothing happened when Jazz tried the first corner. He moved on to the next, trying to turn the sigil there first one way, then the other. Still nothing. That was when he realized, and in an instant his frown vanished, replaced by a grin.

"It _was_ this one, wasn't it?" Jazz said, bringing his hand back to the home sigil. "I just needed to do this!" Once again he went to turn it, pushing in the other direction. This time, he felt the mechanism click. "Bingo!"

The board rose up smoothly beneath his hand as he continued to rotate the sigil. The center kept climbing as the track dropped off to form four separate staircases, the corners making short bridges at one level while the home paths continued up just a little higher to where the home space finally came to a stop. The nest sigils at each corner elevated slightly as well, and at the end of a full half-turn the rings around them and the home sigil popped up just enough to create an edge to prevent the pawns from falling off.

"Wow," Jazz said, moving his hand out of the way so he could take in the full effect. "Now that’s somethin'."

"That really is impressive," Prowl agreed. He took several moments to examine the board, stepping closer for a more thorough inspection. "And the seams are practically invisible, although I wouldn't expect anything less."

"We always put forward our best work," Hook said for the team, their enthusiasm for the project warming again at the compliments. "Even with the little things."

"Lots of little things, in this case," Bonecrusher said. "With all the moving components inside."

"It is fairly complex," Long Haul nodded, "but also relatively straightforward, mechanically speaking." All of the moving parts were in fact fairly simple below the surface of the board, if numerous. As with the first board, the most difficult part of the construction had been the scale of the work. Parts of it were almost akin to watchmaking, which had been an interesting challenge.

"Well however you managed it, Prowl's right," Jazz told them. "The parts all fit together perfectly and it looks amazin' to boot."

"That was the idea," Scavenger said cheerfully. "And there's still one more left. You ready to see the last board?"

"After all of this, what more could you possibly have to finish out the set?" Prowl inquired. He was genuinely curious and his tone showed that easily, as did the tilt of his doorwings. The latter, however, was due more to reforming habits than the expectation that anyone in the room would understand the motion. Well, Jazz might, after the short lesson, but he also wasn't the one it was directed towards.

Unexpectedly, the mechs the gesture was intended for _did_ understand, responding to Prowl's curiosity with smiles - the ones who had visible mouths, anyway. "There's still the small matter of a backgammon board," Mixmaster said, nudging Scavenger with his elbow. "Go on, show them."

After shooting a quick glance at Hook, who didn't say anything to stop him this time, Scavenger reached for the final board. "Here it is!" he said, setting it down with a flourish. "Check it out!"

Compared to the subtler designs on the other boards, the backgammon board was much more elaborate. The playing field was recessed so it almost resembled a tray with two wide strips on either side of the rows of points alternating in two base colors. Each point was outlined in a narrow band of geometric patterning, similar but not quite identical to the design that ran the perimeter of the board along the walls of the recessed area. which also bisected the board. Along the top edge was yet another pattern, complementing the others and echoing elements of the two decorative square inlays between the points on either side of the dividing line.

The inlays and borders consisted of only two other tones besides the three base colors of the board and the points, but the effect of all the intricate detail made it seem much more colorful despite being the same simple metallics the rest of the set was made of. The only exceptions were the spots of jewel-bright color sparkling at the tips of the points and from a few strategic places throughout the geometric patterns around the board. The whole effect was rich and vivid, and altogether beautiful.

There were no words to properly describe the beauty of this board, or at least none Prowl could articulate. Not even with his extensive lexicon. He found all he could do was simply stare at it for a while.

Finally though, he looked up at the Constructicons. "I dare say the five of you have outdone yourselves, especially if this one also has moving parts."

"It does," Bonecrusher said right as Scavenger announced, "Of course!" Two sets of plating flared slightly in irritation as they turned to look at each other, optics just beginning to darken.

"It's nothing as fancy as the others have," Hook interjected before they could start competing for who got to explain. / _Don't. Not now. We’ll talk about it later_ ,/ he ordered in the pause between sentences. "The two wide sections on either side aren’t solid - they have lids that fold away to reveal compartments with additional pieces. Each opens separately."

Having asserted control over the conversation, Hook proceeded to show how to make the covers retract. Once they were both open, two sets of smooth, flat checkers were visible in colors matching the alternating points on the board. Wrapped around them was the same geometric band edging the points, without any of the bright color accents.

Each line of checkers was split in the middle by a walled off space holding two small regular dice and one larger die, which was marked with written numbers rather than pips. Unlike the other dice already belonging to the set, these were black and white, the markings on each in the opposite color.

Jazz, who'd been as speechless as Prowl before, was the first to comment this time. "Every one of these games has somethin' unexpected and unique about it," he said, picking up one of the darker tone checkers and the black numbered doubling cube to examine them. "Outdone yourselves is right - I never imagined it'd be this incredible."

The checker had a pleasant weight in his hand and the finish was slick against his fingers. It was hard to stop playing with it, and Jazz ran his thumb along the edge repetitively as he looked up, visor glowing bright with appreciation. "Thank you for putting so much effort into this!"

Satisfaction surged around the group. "Thank you for the commission," Hook replied, mostly to Prowl since he had been the one to formally present the project to them. "We hope it serves you well."

"It has been everything we hoped for and so much more," Prowl replied in gratitude. "You have our eternal thanks."

The words had a formality that spoke of old tradition. An old tradition he knew nothing about, and Prowl might have been at least curious over that if he hadn't also been distracted by Jazz's actions beside him.

Continuing to absently play with the checker, Jazz didn't seem to be hung up on the phrasing. He was busy setting the doubling cube down and pulling the boards in line with each other, contemplating something. "You got a preference for what order to stack 'em in?" He turned to look at Prowl. "Don't matter to me which goes where, 'cept maybe that this one isn't on top." He caught the checker over his thumb and flipped it like a coin, spinning it through the air before catching it soundlessly. "Not likely the compartments'll open accidentally, but I wouldn't want to be scramblin' after spilled pieces."

"No," Prowl replied absently, "I have no preference so whatever is simplest works." His attention was still completely on Jazz but he did tear it away for a moment to glance at the lined up boards. "Perhaps just stack them from that side this way? We can always rearrange them later when we put the set together."

"True," Jazz agreed, replacing the checker and closing the compartments. "Guess that means I have to collapse this one back down, huh?" he said wistfully, admiring the three dimensional staircases of the Parcheesi board again.

"It would be a good idea for travelling, yes," Long Haul said. "You can always expand it again when you get back."

"Yeah, like a display piece even when you're not playing with it, if it’s on top," Mixmaster chimed in.

"I like the way you think, mech." Rotating the sigil back around to its starting position brought the steps flush with the board. Jazz picked it up and settled it onto the backgammon board until he felt the lock engage, then picked both up to place on top of the remaining board. 

"We taking these back to your place now?" he asked Prowl.

A nod and accepting wing flick answered him. "If you are so inclined to the idea, that works perfectly fine for me as well." Prowl even offered a faint smile before looking back to his team. "I know we keep saying it, but thank you once again. The work is even more impressive than we could have imagined."

"Just doing our job," Bonecrusher shrugged.

"As long as you like it," Scavenger said.

"We like it," Jazz assured them. "I'm lookin' forward to getting a lot of use out of it, and it'll be a joy to look at every time."

"Then we succeeded," Long Haul said simply. It was hard to miss that they were all very pleased to hear the praise and thanks, however. Five red sets of optics and visors glowed warmly down at the two smaller mechs, their combined field radiating pride in their accomplishment.

"We'll let you know when we have anything on your other request," Mixmaster directed at Jazz. "If you still wanted us to look into it, that is?"

"You bet," Jazz nodded. "If you've got the time - you don't have to go out of your way or anything."

"We'll keep it in mind around our other projects," Hook promised.

"Thanks! I appreciate it." Jazz picked up the stacked boards, offering them to Prowl rather than immediately putting them into his own subspace. "Did you want to carry them? Or shall I?"

"You can keep them for now. You're already holding them anyway," Prowl answered with a light flick of his wings. It didn't matter who carried them considering they were headed to the same destination, and together at that. 

"All right. Let's hit the road then!" Jazz carefully put the boards in his subspace, mindful of the flute and other assorted items already taking up real estate there. "Thanks again!" he called as he began walking backwards toward the door, waving. They waved back, a chorus of goodbyes following him and Prowl as the Praxian joined him.

Together they exited the workroom and made their way back to the front door. Jazz did a half-spin mid-step when Prowl caught up fully to walk facing forward side by side. "So, am I gonna be able to hang out a bit when we get back, or are we just unitin' the boards and callin' it a night?" he asked, holding the door open after stepping outside.

"I have no pressing matters to deal with so you can remain as late as you'd like." Prowl gave an appreciative wing flick as he passed through the door, as well as a nod so he could be sure Jazz understood his intent. "I wasn't expecting you, however, so I don't have any treats to offer on this visit."

"I don't mind," Jazz said, smiling at Prowl. "Your company is better than treats."

Mildly embarrassed at how mushy that had come out sounding, Jazz quickly transformed to drive a short distance up the road, pausing just long enough to wait for Prowl to transform. As soon as the off-duty enforcer's tires hit the pavement he was off again, Prowl following closely behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration/references:
> 
> Chinese Checkers - [one](https://img1.etsystatic.com/000/0/5437072/il_570xN.280904465.jpg) & [two](http://www.instructables.com/files/orig/F6L/OZVG/IFGNW8IW/F6LOZVGIFGNW8IW.jpg)  
> Parcheesi - [one](https://kihm2.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/p-2.jpg) & [two](https://kihm2.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/p-1.jpg)  
> Backgammon - [one](http://www.bestbackgammon.com/absolute/html/otherboards_files/008.jpg) & [two](http://c8.alamy.com/comp/A44XPY/wooden-backgammon-board-morocco-A44XPY.jpg)  
> Game sets - [one](http://assets.hardwaresphere.com/uploads/2008/07/15-in-1-game-center-for-weekend-home-entertainment-drawer1.jpg) & [two](http://www.toysrus.com/graphics/tru_prod_images/7-in-1-Game-Set--pTRU1-8624935dt.jpg)


	13. Necessary Adaptations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now, the aftermath of the meeting with the Constructicons. Still the same evening, picking up almost exactly where we left off.

_Your company is better than treats_.

Prowl had been grateful when Jazz transformed and started driving because it meant he missed the embarrassed flutter of his wings at that comment. He was even thankful that as soon as they took off, Jazz turned the drive into something of a low-key ‘race’. It gave him time to calm down and regain his composure, as well as providing a welcome distraction.

Jazz was mindful of the speed limits, if only just, as they wound their way back to Prowl’s apartment. He managed to keep the lead most of the way, only getting caught behind other mechs or stuck in a pack a couple of times, which Prowl always managed to avoid because their fellow motorists were busy avoiding _him_. It was only really a problem on the busiest streets, and Jazz was able to slip back in front of Prowl each time when the traffic relented.

He reached their destination first, transforming to walk the last few steps and lean nonchalantly against the building. He laughed and gestured to the locked door as Prowl pulled up. "Seems I can't get in," he joked. "Winning's not much fun when the prize is to hurry up and wait!"

Prowl was able to smile at Jazz after he'd transformed in order to come up and join him beside the door. He was sending the code for it to unlock even as he spoke. "Well, if you weren't making a simple drive into a contest then you wouldn't have to wait, now would you?"

Inside, the apartment was clean and largely bare. The only pieces of furniture were a couch, table and a few chairs, much like Jazz's home. In direct contrast however, the walls held nothing but a few nearly empty shelving units along the far wall where the entry to the kitchen stood. To the right was the short hallway that led to a small room serving as a makeshift office and the berth room at the end. It was there where his few truly personal artifacts from both before and during the war were stored. Some were even displayed. The game set was still sitting atop the table in the living room however, exactly where they had left it the previous night. 

"Made it more fun, didn't it?" Jazz brought the new boards out from subspace to put next to the set. "And anyway, that wasn't a real race. Trust me Prowler, you ain't seen nothing yet."

He claimed a chair and sat, releasing the locks to separate the boards so he could spread them out across the tabletop. "I’m still havin’ trouble believing they made these," he admitted. "I know it's right there in their name, but creating ain’t the first thing that comes to mind when I think of them. Not on this level, at least." Jazz sighed, rotating the sigil on the Parcheesi board to watch the staircases rise again. "It's more than engineering and construction, what they've done here. It's art."

"You would be surprised then," Prowl commented as he joined Jazz at the table. He chose to remain standing beside it for now however. "Perhaps their greatest pre-war achievement was the construction of The Crystal City. They were the sole designers and architects and did everything from the largest structure to the most intricate detail work.”

"Really? I didn't realize." Jazz traced a finger up one side of the steps and back down the other. "That makes this a little easier to believe, though I'm still shocked how fast they managed it." His hand came to rest on the closest corner, the sigil vaguely reminiscent of Iacon on its golden background resting under his palm.

"This is far more grand than even I anticipated,” Prowl agreed, “and I got to see their plans."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Jazz shifted gears and changed the subject. "Say - earlier, when I was trying to figure out where the trigger mechanism was for this thing, you were talking to them, right?" He paused slightly before asking, "Was it about me?"

"We were speaking, yes," Prowl replied hesitantly. He paused to focus on holding his doorwings still after one embarrassed flick. "They were debating interrupting you to offer unrequested assistance and didn't realize they were also projecting again."

"I'm guessin' that assistance involved more than just another hint," Jazz said drily, "since playin' hot and cold don't exactly require a debate loud enough to draw your attention by accident." He tapped a finger thoughtfully on the board under his hand, wondering. "Obviously they didn't do it, whatever they were arguin' about. What'd you say to them?"

Another pause, though this one was far less pronounced. "They were considering showing you what you did wrong with the home sigil by physically guiding you in the right direction." Prowl's wings flicked back in the displeasure he was sure Jazz would feel at that. Especially with the contact so uninvited. "A couple of them were arguing to be the ones to get to do it while the others were arguing against the entire idea when I joined the 'discussion'.”

"Oh." There was a faint flicker in Jazz's visor, the only physical indicator that he was unsettled. It wasn't something he couldn't have handled, precisely, but he'd been so focused on the board that it would have come as a surprise - and an unwelcome one at that. Casual contact with friends was one thing, but with mechs who didn't quite fall into that category, Jazz preferred to have some warning.

"Well. I'm not saying that would have been a problem, exactly, but…" he trailed off, his gaze drifting away to stare at a blank spot on the equally blank wall. The truth was he wasn't completely sure what he would have done. The Constructicons didn't fit into a neat category in his processor, which made determining the best course of action around them difficult. They weren't enemies, but certain protocols still tagged them as such in Jazz's processor. They weren't friends, but they were a permanent fixture in Prowl's life, which affected Jazz's interactions with them as long as he wanted to have Prowl in his life. Then there was the not-so-small matter of their interest in him, not that Jazz wanted to even think about that.

Distracted as he'd been, there was a good chance that them reaching for him would have triggered threat assessment protocols. Whether that would have resulted in an aggressive response to warn them off or a suppressed reaction to keep them from realizing he'd been rattled, either way it would have been stressful and unpleasant. Jazz also doubted that even if he'd managed to play it off like nothing to them, he wouldn't have been able to fool Prowl. The Praxian had been standing too close and knew him too well for it to have gone entirely unremarked.

Prowl knew him well enough, in fact, that even though nothing had happened he seemed to know how Jazz felt about it anyway. That wing flap had been… irritated? Upset? Jazz wasn't positive he was reading it entirely right, but it was clear to him that Prowl didn't approve of his team's idea. That helped a lot, and while he was still uncomfortable with the topic, Jazz felt safe enough to continue talking about it.

"…it wouldn't have been easy on me," he finished at last, bringing his optics back to Prowl. "Do I have you to thank for telling them to give it up as the bad idea it was?"

Prowl hadn't minded waiting, especially the longer the silence drew on. With others perhaps it would be a chance to construct a tale or decide which lie he would be most willing to accept, but with Jazz it often meant he was considering the truth; often a difficult one. So when Jazz trailed off and stalled, Prowl simply remained quiet and unmoving to avoid disturbing him. It was the best way to be awarded the truth.

As it proved this time. And there was no reason not to give the same back. "Partially," he admitted. That was the easy part though; the rest? Not so much. "I tried on my own but it was insufficient, so I had to remind them of your wartime reputation."

Jazz smiled tightly at that. It wasn't a happy expression. "That reputation’s more than whispers and rumors," he acknowledged. He brought his hands together in his lap, clasping his fingers to steady them. "I can't imagine you'd’ve terrorized them with it though; you're too good at striking just the right balance to get the outcome you want without goin’ too far for that."

Reassured on that front, Jazz slumped slightly where he sat, finally letting himself open up about the underlying issue. "The thing is, balance is something I'm havin' a bit of trouble with. You… you saw the security at my place, didn't you?" he asked, more seeking confirmation than truly inquiring. Prowl couldn't know about all of it without an in-depth search of his apartment but enough was visible to the trained optic, and he'd been over more than once now.

Prowl didn't react for a moment as he took in Jazz's shifted stance and mood. He still didn't speak as he stepped away to collect another chair and bring it over so they were face-to-face when he settled into it in order to be on the same level. He did consider reaching out to offer comfort through contact but quickly dismissed the idea. With the current topic that might only make things worse.

"I did," he finally answered. "I was unsure what to make of its presence however, so I have yet to form an opinion on the situation."

"The 'situation' ain't one I'm all that proud of, but you deserve to know if we… if we're gonna make this, us, work." Jazz had pulled his EM field down tight against his plating by now to keep Prowl from feeling just how scared he was. He could only hope that admitting this difficulty, this failing, wouldn't make Prowl reject him.

He was afraid that it would, but not telling him would be unfair. And maybe, just maybe, Prowl would understand. "The war's over. I know that, I do," he said quickly. "I just don't - _can't_ \- trust it. Not completely. Not yet." This time he didn't look away, resolutely meeting Prowl's optics. "I haven't deactivated any of my protocols, Prowl. Tweaked some of the priorities a bit, sure, made a few of 'em less responsive, but removed 'em? No."

A short shrug of his shoulders eased some of the tension building in his cables. "That's the reason I've got that security set up - so I can recharge easier at night without bein' on guard half the time, and relax better when I'm at home. It's been slow goin', gettin' used to this peace. I'm glad for it, but in a way it's a lot of stress, you know? Sometimes I think I'm not doing a very good job adjusting to it, and the thought of bein' without the protocols that kept me alive all this time makes me _really_ uncomfortable."

His voice got quieter. "Even if I was ready to turn 'em off, there's some of ‘em can't _be_ removed. Not without the kind of deep editin' and rewrites that'd completely change who I am, and that-" he cut himself off, unable to voice the thought of reformatting. "Bottom line? I ain't ever gonna be rid of it all, and what I can get rid of is gonna take time. I'm workin' on it, I really am, but… is that going to be a problem?"

Prowl watched him for a moment, visibly weighing his options, before speaking. "I still carry my military-grade rifle," he shared. "It's always in my subspace, except for the occasional night when I can't recharge properly without having it beside my berth." His wings twitched once, unnoticed as he continued. "It's irrational and I've never used it, but I feel better knowing it's there and that I'm prepared in case the fighting should start up again. That's also the reason why there's a thread in my processor permanently dedicated to risk assessment and defensive capacity of any and all locations I ever go to. Sometimes it’s more," he admitted, "but there is never less than one and it is always running. Even in familiar locations, I create various scenarios that are highly improbable simply to be certain I have a plan should it happen."

He exvented a soft sigh. "The point I'm hoping to make is that the war left a lasting impression on all of us. It would be absurd to expect anyone to recover immediately, much less those of us so deep in it we had to banish our pre-war selves. It will take many vorn for anyone to feel completely secure and you should not berate yourself as long as you are making an effort to adjust."

Prowl smiled then. "And if you don't mind an outside perspective, you do seem to be adjusting."

"Really?" Jazz let out a relieved ex-vent, his whole posture relaxing. "Sorry, it's not that I'm happy you need things like that to feel safe too, it's just… Primus, sometimes I feel like it's just me." He unclasped his hands, bringing one arm back up onto the table to balance as he leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "I get worried everyone'll think I'm bein' paranoid and start calling me Red Alert instead of Jazz!" He flashed a brief grin. "Seriously though, you really think I am adjusting? Cuz some orns it's all I can do to act normally."

"There are some who might not understand," Prowl agreed. "Not everyone had a role so deeply mired in wartime protocols as you and many might not even believe it's possible to be steeped in as many as I'm guessing you have. Conversely, there are some with fewer who would be amazed you're adjusting so well if they knew. Personally, I am even more impressed by how adjusted you seem now that I know how much you have working against you."

Jazz snickered. "Ask medical sometime. I've probably gotten as many lectures from Ratchet about the state of my processors and coding as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker got for being reckless. Or you, for working too hard." He shook his helm ruefully. "It was necessary. We did what we had to, built ourselves into weapons, and now there's no place for us anymore unless we reinvent ourselves again. And that's a pretty tall order." Restlessly he tapped a foot against the leg of his chair. "Nice to know I make it look easy though. Sometimes it actually is - like you described, just background processes running without being overwhelming. Then there's the times where it's like I'm on an ongoing recon mission, wound tight with no end in sight and no backup, nowhere that feels completely safe."

"You could come to me…"

The offer was made instinctively, and though embarrassed by it, Prowl did not retract it. Consciously settling his wings, he took a moment to consider his wording. It still came out as a jumble by the time he onlined his vocalizer, but he plunged ahead anyway. "Of course, that's only if you choose to do so, but it does make sense. I may not be as skilled as you in combat but I do know how to take down an assailant if necessary, should your protocols act up around me. You'll also find it is fairly difficult to startle me and you do seem capable of relaxing when I'm present. Unless that's just an act?"

Jazz smiled softly at the offer, and his field relaxed in increments as Prowl kept talking until it could be felt again, full of gratitude. "You're backup and a safe place in one," Jazz said, too happy to be embarrassed or concerned about how he sounded for once. "I trust you to be able to take care of yourself if anything happened, either to me or because of me. That's why I can relax around you." He slid his arm forward along the table toward Prowl, his fingers reaching. "It's not an act, none of it. Not with you."

Prowl slowly brought his arm up and reached out to meet Jazz's hand and take it in his own. Their fingers touched and intertwined and then there was the gentle pressure of a reassuring squeeze that could have been begun by either but was reciprocated by the other as they sat in peaceful silence for several moments. 

Eventually, Prowl gave a gentle smile before speaking, leaving their hands together. "I am glad to hear that. You have long been safe for me too. In many different ways but also for several of the same reasons as I am for you. I rarely feel the need to hide what I'm feeling from you, and on those occasions that I do, I know I can trust you not to push."

"Nice to know it's mutual and I'm not just a burden on you," Jazz said. "How about I'll remember I can come to you if I'm having trouble and you feel free to do the same? Not that I'm anticipating a breakdown or anything. I'd really rather spend time with you doing fun things!" His expression lightened while remaining thoughtful. "For what it's worth, please don't try to sneak up on me or talk right behind me without announcing yourself first. I don't think I'd attack _you_ , but it does nothing for my spark. I'm still a big fan of spontaneity, but I've lost a bit of my taste for surprises, particularly physical ones."

He paused to stroke his thumb along the side of Prowl's hand, much like he had done earlier with the checker from the game set. "And speaking of things physical, I should probably tell you the safe way to wake me at some point, in case we wind up asleep together like that night on the couch and you happen to online first. I don't want to risk hurting you by accident because of a bad boot-up. I'd still feel bad, even if you can take care of yourself."

Prowl nodded as Jazz explained, his wings flicking acceptance in all the right places as well. "Understandable and not unreasonable," he acknowledged as the other finished. "Surprises would be unwise around any soldier but especially so for one whose main tasks were infiltration, espionage and sabotage. I appreciate the information you have shared and what more you are willing to grant me.

"I, thankfully, do not have such a degree of sensitivity but I will sometimes get lost in the endless probabilities of increasingly improbable occurrences. The transition back to normal functioning is merely unpleasant, not dangerous." Prowl exvented softly. "It can leave me with a raging processorache but it has not been any worse than that and some lost time."

"Is there anything that helps the transition be less unpleasant for you?" Jazz asked. "Anything I could do if it happens when I'm with you? I know I settle faster from a bad episode if I can get back to my apartment, or at least somewhere relatively secure and away from other mechs. That's what you can do for me, by the way - get me somewhere quiet and private without lettin’ on anything is wrong if anyone else is around." He glanced over Prowl's shoulders at his door wings. "Do those have a tell I can watch for if you start getting lost?"

Prowl considered that for a moment before giving a slightly apologetic reply. "I honestly do not know. I tend to be surprised out of that state by others and almost no one cares to notice their movements. Or if they do, they haven't mentioned it to me. It is something we will have to learn together, I suppose." He bid Jazz a slight smile. "Perhaps you'll even figure out a way to bring me back that doesn't result in startling me."

He paused to stop his sensorwings moving in the lazy, contented motion they had taken up. His tone was just a touch more serious when he spoke again. "While we're discussing tells, do you have any specific ones? Something that would warn me before you slip too far?"

There was a moment of silence as Jazz thought back over the last few times he'd had difficulties, trying to come up with something concrete. "Not unless you're standin' _real_ close, close enough to catch the faint flicker in my EM field or detect the minute shift in the pitch of my systems right as the protocols come up before it all evens out again," he answered. "Ops: the whole point is to go unnoticed. I start controlling my reactions to hide anything's wrong when I start getting twitchy out of habit." He frowned slightly as a thought occurred to him. "Given that, a good tell might be if I suddenly seem fine after showing minor signs of stress. Not a foolproof indicator, but it’s something."

"I'll keep that in mind," Prowl commented with a partial nod. "How close would I need to be to be able to notice either of those? Naturally, these are not the sort of things that would be clearly broadcast but do I have to be right beside you? Or don't you know?"

"I don't know for sure," Jazz replied. "Close as we are now or like we were standin' before in the workshop I figure you'd be able to tell, since you've got upgraded sensors and know what to pay attention to. Other mechs who aren't as observant? They'd probably miss it even if we were in physical contact." He squeezed Prowl's fingers again, illustrating the point without letting go. "It's happened before where no one’s noticed."

Jazz ran a few numbers quickly in his helm. "We might be able to come up with an estimate of the outer limits, if you wanted to try puttin' some math to it." It was an interesting question, with several variables that might impact the range at which Prowl could detect one or the other or both indicators. Jazz found he was curious to know the answer, and realized with a jolt that it wasn't because he wanted to know how far away from Prowl he needed to be to hide things from him. He wanted to know how far away he could be and still have Prowl be able to tell when he might need help and come to his aid.

"If you believe you can supply me with the appropriate data then we should be able to determine that easily enough." Prowl paused as he ran a thumb along Jazz's hand. He was curious, and found the action to be sweet and comforting, even as the one giving, rather than receiving the gesture. "Perhaps we should also have some sign or code for when we are not close enough or in case I do miss it. Something simple and discreet but distinctive enough to be unmistakable."

Jazz couldn't contain a short laugh. "I was thinking of suggesting just that!" He smiled brightly. "I've got good control when the protocols are active. They inconvenience me more than they really threaten anyone else, really. I can't always control when they come on or force them to shut down, but I'd definitely be able to slip you a sign or countersign."

He broke off just long enough to send Prowl a copy of the data he'd pulled up a moment ago. "Tell me what you think of this first," he said. "The audible system shift would be a temporary absence of sound as stealth protocols activate before the camouflage routines bring things back up to the level of whatever I was doing before to blend in again. The actual decibel change’ll vary depending on how quiet I'm running when it happens, but here's the range it'd most commonly fall into. As far as EM field fluctuations go, we'd have to actually test that to get data. I don't know how measurable the change is, I just know there is one."

"I'm sure you'll forgive me if I hope we don't have many occasions in which to test that," Prowl stated as he opened the file. He gave the information a cursory glance then pulled up some of his own technical information. He returned to Jazz's data to peruse it for examination and comparison.

Several equations and a couple kliks later, he finally had some preliminary results. "Well, it certain would not be easy and distances vary given countless other factors but as long as I am partially focused on you I should be capable of noticing even two arm lengths away in general circumstances. Noisy areas shrink that as they provide cover sound and I may have to lower my own sensitivity in some cases. The worst that could happen is being right beside you with my sensors nearly off and missing it entirely. Conversely," he elaborated, "if I am focused solely on you with heightened sensitivity then I should be able to pick it up from the opposite side of a quiet room the size of the bar."

"I like the thought of you focused solely on me," Jazz said, not quite a tease given the sincerity in his voice. "And I figured those’d be the factors that'd make the most difference. Overall not a bad baseline, even if there's still a pretty wide strike zone. Kinda reinforces the idea that a deliberate signal would be the more reliable way to go, doesn't it?"

Jazz began thinking out loud. "You said simple, discreet, and distinctive, and I agree. It needs to be easy to recognize but also easy to disguise, and not something likely to happen unintentionally. I'd say we should just come up with a code word to use over comms," his visor dimmed just a bit, "but that won't always work if we're too far apart and I'm not able to trust the airwaves."

"Perhaps a set of signals then?" Prowl offered. "Code words for various degrees of severity and perhaps a motion or various motions in case the situation prevents us from speaking?"

He continued thinking, allowing thoughts to tumble into words as he went. Jazz was one of the few he would ever do that around because there was no guarantee exactly what might come out. "We would need something distinctive to us but unobtrusive to others. Something that naturally comes in varying sizes or severity so different levels can be camouflaged and could still be slipped into a normal conversation."

As the idea hit, his entire stance and tone shifted minutely but highly noticeably so that he went from thoughtful to inspired while still appearing to hold the same position. "Earthen cities."

Jazz's visor brightened back up, intrigued by the suggestion. "That'd give us a lot of variety, yeah. It's something most wouldn't think twice about us mentioning casually either, since we both spent a lot of time there. I like the idea of a visual signal as well, but I think dropping city names would cover most scenarios. Just as long as there's no obvious correlation in scale," he insisted. "No increasing statistics to match increasing severity - population, square miles, crime rates, whatever. Not that it's likely anyone would spot that kind of pattern, but still."

"What about distance from our old base there?" Prowl offered. "It gives us a reference point but negates all other obvious correlations. A small town across the country or on another continent would be worse than a huge city nearby, but no one else should realize such. Even others who were on the planet as well would be unlikely to notice it. Unless you'd prefer an even more complicated system?"

"No, I think that satisfies my need for complication," Jazz shook his helm. "Sounds good. All we need is a qualifier just in case we're talking cities without it bein' code and a backup visual indicator and we got ourselves a working code!" He stopped, wondering. "Is this something you can use too? Or does it sneak up on you when you start having trouble and you don't realize you're stuck until it's too late?"

"I have yet to catch myself before falling into it so this system is unlikely to help me. If we can determine what causes my 'distractions' however, then perhaps I could attempt to use it," Prowl mused. "It's bound to take a long time to figure that out but it can be a background task to work on.”

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Jazz said, sounding disappointed. "I don't mind workin' on it together, I promise - even if it takes a long time. I just hoped there'd be something I could do right away, like you're doing for me."

“Your desire to help means as much as any potential success in the future,” Prowl told him warmly. “For now, what are you thinking for a subtle visual sign? Or a qualifier, for that matter?"

Jazz thought about Prowl's question. "For a qualifier we either need to assume a city is always code unless we negate it, or never code unless we confirm it.” He weighed both options. "Which do you think would be the most efficient? I'm guessin' we're more likely to bring up Earthen cities in mixed company for the purpose of the code than casual conversation, so it might not be too bad to say cities are code unless there's an additional 'disregard' after it." 

Prowl considered the problem for several long moments in silence. It was not a complicated problem, but it was a delicate one. That could make the solution both incredibly easy and impossibly difficult. Thankfully, this time it seemed to be the former. "What about one city in particular? Then if you're fine you could mention that one before or in close proximity and play it off like you confused stories.”

"Maybe one we spent a lot of time in, like LA or New York," Jazz proposed. "Either or. They'd be real easy to slip in a comparison or comment on naturally." He shook their still-joined hands. "Done then! Only thing missing's a non-verbal emergency version, and I've got an idea for that too." He hummed a short musical phrase, only a handful of notes without any real melody. It almost sounded tuneless, though the rhythm was precise and measured out by a careful flicker in his visor and the tap--tap-tap-tap--tap of his finger against Prowl's hand.

Once, twice, three times he repeated it. "Got it?" he asked. "It's from an original piece I've been working on, which would be my explanation for it if anyone happened to ask."

Prowl returned the handshake, sensor wings flicking in additional confirmation. "Heard and saved. I certainly hope there are not many reasons to need or use this system, however. Did you still wish to explain how best to wake you safely or would you prefer a lighter choice of conversation?"

"That'll keep," Jazz replied. "I'd rather take a break from that stuff for a while and just relax with you.” He smiled happily. “Anything particular you’d like to do?"

Prowl didn't have an idea off the top of his head, so they had a short back and forth of options and ideas. What sealed the deal was when Prowl suggested pulling the table over to the couch so they could sit beside one another and test out the new boards. That eventually resulted in them cuddling together on the couch for a few joor as they shifted slowly from casual contact to curling up together while playing. It had made making moves a bit more complicated but was nice otherwise and so neither complained. Not even when the time came to part... at least not externally. It had been an unexpected but pleasant evening and they would both fall into recharge happy over it, looking forward to the next time.


	14. Getting Warmed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another date night; this time the venue is a race track. What trouble can our pair get into surrounded by enforcers? Come read to find out.

The enforcers' private track lay hidden in a building set at the back of a wide, mostly clear area outside the current city but well within the boundaries of pre-war Iacon that had been claimed by the precinct. The plot of land had been slated for the eventual construction of a proper training academy but for now held only a handful of large, low-lying buildings in varying stages of completion.

The first building off the road as Prowl and Jazz pulled up was the smallest. Designated as the administrative center, it was also where all classes took place currently. Those would eventually move to the building beside it once its interior was finished, Prowl explained, while the other two structures already standing but as of yet unused would be where the physical and advanced skill training courses took place. Finally, there was both a makeshift shooting range and obstacle course in the open area in the middle of the compound, ringed by the other structures and only properly visible once they passed the first two buildings.

Prowl led the way in and though they were surely being watched, no one came out to try and stop them. If it was a lapse in security, Prowl made no mention of it and simply brought Jazz to the track building. Immediately inside was a long hallway that ran perpendicular to the entrance with no other doors that turned the corner at both ends. The next hallway on either side had a single door each and that door led into a shorter hallway with a door on either side and one at the end. Prowl brought them through the far door.

Inside lay the track. It was a simple oval, wide and long, made of a similar if not identical material to the roads that had been lain throughout what existed of the city so far. Within the looping track lay several obstacles and what seemed to be a few numerous pathways between them. There were shallow stands along every wall with a door at the center of each.

"It's not much," Prowl commented as Jazz looked around. They were alone, for the moment. "And I doubt the design is familiar but it is fully functional. The inclusion of an obstacle course within the racetrack was a Praxian standard. What better way to use the extra space?" he explained. "I did not mention such in the planning stages however, so it was an unexpected but pleasant surprise."

"It doesn't look familiar, no," Jazz agreed. "But it does look like fun!" He'd been energetically curious since before they even arrived, and each step into the complex had just increased his excitement. Prowl was downplaying it, and to be fair, it truly was nothing compared to the amenities that had existed before the war, but it was still above and beyond anything Jazz had seen since and was far more than he'd imagined when Prowl had told him about it.

The other buildings, as Prowl described them, had matched his expectations for the place. But this? This exceeded them. "You know, I'm not sure what impresses me more," he said, striving for casual as he tried to take in everything at once. "The fact that you managed to build this all in here, or the fact that no one knows about it." Specifically, what they'd done with the interior. There was no hiding the building itself, after all.

Prowl chuckled. "It is especially impressive that no one knows given the government did sanction a 'fully functional training academy.' The best schools were home to private tracks so trainees could practice chases and takedowns in a safe environment. Although many of the other former enforcers were surprised I got this detail past as well."

"The phrase 'fully functional training academy' is just that: a phrase. What that entails ain't necessarily something mechs'd pay a lot of attention to in detail past a certain stage in the construction process, especially if you were the one overseeing it,” Jazz pointed out.

"I suppose I should be grateful you were not on that committee to further question the plans then," Prowl joked. "You know me well enough that you would have examined the plans thoroughly." 

“Lucky break,” Jazz teased back. “I probably would have insisted a much closer optic be kept on the project if I'd been involved!" He drew himself up mock-seriously. "You could get up to all sorts of things in here without proper supervision!" His pose broke as he laughed. "I bet they only bothered to supervise digitally, readin' the reports and skippin' the on-site visits." At least the more likely reason for that was the overwhelming amount of work the new government had to do, not laziness or negligence as it might have been in the past.

"What supervision is more proper than that of the police force?" It could have been an honest question but for the tilt of Prowl’s wings and pitch of his tone that turned it into another joking comment. 

“Guess I gotta give you that one,” Jazz relented, then changed the subject. “You said you didn’t ask for the obstacle course. So, who added it?" He gestured to the setup. "I can't tell from looking at it how close to standard it is, but it sure looks like it was put together well." He grinned, rocking on his feet eagerly. "Do we get to try it, too?"

"If you are as interested as you seem to be, then how could I say no?" Prowl said with a gentle smirk that slipped away as he answered Jazz’s other question. "I'll give you three guesses on who built it into the design and the first two don't count, as that saying goes…"

"I'm going to guess the Constructi _cons_ had something to do with this track turning up Praxian,” Jazz replied shrewdly.

Prowl smiled. "Can you understand now how I wasn't overly surprised to find they had given you that crystal arrangement? There are many details shared in both directions, although I believe we mainly gained things from our from pre-war lives."

"It does seem to be a recurring theme," Jazz said, though he sounded more amused than annoyed even as he pushed the unsettling reminder of the crystals from his active processor. "In this case it really worked out to your benefit, didn't it? Yours and the force's, since they get to use it. Speaking of which - how long do we have the place to ourselves?"

"I don't know how long the building will remain empty,” Prowl answered, glancing around the vacant track. “The only set schedule is for training events and that is simply to secure the track against unplanned surprises for the recruits. Otherwise it is essentially a free-for-all with common courtesy ruling so we should probably take advantage of our time alone."

"I certainly don't plan to waste it," Jazz said. "I just hardly know where to start!" He stepped out onto the surface of the track, testing the feel of it. "Maybe a couple of warm up laps? The drive out here really wasn’t enough to count."

"Whatever you like," Prowl commented as he stepped up to, and then on, the track. He folded down into altmode just off center of the closest set of starting lines and revved his engine in a playful taunt. ::Just name the challenge and watch me best you.::

Following Prowl's example, Jazz dropped down into his altmode in the lane next to him. ::Think that's how it's gonna be, do you?:: he tossed back with a rev of his own. ::We'll just see about that!:: With that, Jazz took off - nowhere near his top speed, but still rather quickly for an alleged warm up. ::Meet you back here in three!::

::I'll be waiting, cheater!:: Prowl shot back as he peeled out after Jazz. His own speed took a bit longer to build up but he had more control in turns and would lose less of that speed rounding corners.

Jazz realized the advantage Prowl had in cornering quickly, but didn't try to compensate for it by pushing his acceleration yet. Despite the teasing jump start, he only increased his speed gradually as his engine heated. While perfectly capable of performing from a cold start, his maneuverability improved as his frame warmed, and he already knew he would need to bring his best game with Prowl.

He let his focus slide away from him after the first lap though. Jazz shifted his attention to the surface of the road beneath his tires to evaluate traction and incline. Learning the track now would pay off later and was almost more important than warming up was, especially if there were any irregularities to watch out for.

Because it was only a warm up, Prowl didn't push any advantage. He simply caught up to and then overtook Jazz, but remained close with his minor lead. He thought perhaps Jazz would attempt to speed up and pass him just before the end, but that was fine. It would give him some idea of the other's racing style and in any case, it was nice just driving close together.

Coming around for the final stretch, Jazz did put on a final burst of speed to pull up alongside Prowl once more. He'd timed it a bit late and wasn't sure if he could actually get ahead before they completed the final lap, but he had to at least close the gap! There was no way he could let Prowl win with that much of a lead, even if it was just a practice run.

They crossed over a finish line near their starting point at the same time, a close enough race to make determining a victor nearly impossible. Of course, neither was using their true potential, but it did raise again the interesting question of who would win when they did.

Prowl opened up a comm line to Jazz again as they took a sedate lap to follow up the 'race.' ::Was that enough, or would you like a few more practice laps?::

::I'm done practicin’.:: The drive over might not have been enough of a warm up alone, but between that and what they’d just done, Jazz was itching to try the real thing. ::Same three lap sprint from a standing start,:: he said, slowing to come to a smooth stop when they came back around full circle. ::Count it down together? I don't want to hear any more false accusations of cheating from you when I win," he teased.

::I would never question your integrity like that,:: Prowl responded in kind before his tone turned more genuine. ::I may say things in jest, but I do trust you when it matters.:: He expanded his field to brush against Jazz's momentarily to show his honesty 

::I know you do,:: Jazz told him, returning the warm brush with one of his own. ::It's mutual.::

The comment left Prowl happy and dazed for a moment. No matter how often he got to hear it, having the other's trust was an amazing thing to hear. Gaining the trust of one in Jazz’s previous field was an impressive feat.

He held the not-touch for a moment longer before pulling back. ::A simultaneous countdown does seem an appropriate solution. Shall we begin at five to ensure we're on par with one another?::

::Agreed. On one then, counting down - FIVE. FOUR,:: Jazz began, setting the pace of the countdown as he settled down on his tires, preparing for the verbal 'flag' to signal the start.

::THREE. TWO.:: Prowl joined in on the third count, matching Jazz’s pacing. Their voices overlapped on the line as they hit the numbers at the exact same moment. 

Prowl readied himself for the last count, anticipation seeping through his lines.

::ONE!::

They hit the last digit together and both their engines flared to life as they each shot forward. Jazz would have the advantage to begin, Prowl already knew, unless he pressed his full speed right away and Jazz didn't. An unlikely situation and not in either of their best interest, so he discarded the idea. As long as Jazz didn't get too much of a lead then he could catch up to and even pass him on the turns.

Jazz poured on the acceleration as they took off, shooting ahead quickly as he'd expected. He knew his best bet would be to gain as much of a lead as he could in the first lap and on the straightaways to counter the distance Prowl would make up in the turns and over the course of the race, and he intended to go for it. He didn't bother trying to calculate his odds of success; it would take up processing power better used elsewhere to do so and besides - Jazz lived to defy the odds.

Prowl watched as Jazz shot past the first turn before he got close and was halfway to the far one by the time Prowl himself hit the first. He was coming out of his turn as Jazz entered his own and they each hit their next turn at the same time. Prowl pressed for a bit more speed coming out of it as he started down the straight away opposite Jazz.

Peripherally aware of Prowl's position half a lap behind him, Jazz reminded himself to be careful going into the next bend. He didn't want to risk spinning out and losing the lead in an overzealous attempt to keep it. Braking enough to stay in control, he let himself drift around part of the turn, reveling in the feel of it even as he sensed Prowl closing the distance between them.

Jazz was still far ahead as they entered the third lap but Prowl was inching closer with each turn. He could already tell it wouldn't be enough, but the Praxian still put forth his best effort. He could at least try to shrink the gap between them if he couldn't win.

The gap had narrowed to a respectable but still healthy distance by the time Jazz reached the finish, sweeping over the line with a triumphant whoop.

::Victory is mine!:: Jazz cheered, flashing his lights merrily at Prowl. The exertion as much as the win was invigorating and he had to force himself to slow down. Having Prowl pull up alongside him was a good incentive, however. ::How d'you like that? Told you I was good. And fast, too!::

::Congratulations,:: Prowl complimented him as their pace slowed and they drew even again, this time continuing to drive a lazy circle rather than stopping completely. ::You were amazing, and even faster than I recall. Unless I've gotten slower...:: His tone shifted to contemplative as he properly processed his own offhanded suggestion. ::Although, after my fairly recent upgrades that might actually be accurate. Would you care to race again and help me test this?::

::You think your top speed's been reduced?:: Jazz hadn't thought about what the effects of Prowl's rebuild might be beyond the obvious differences in outward physical appearance and his ability to combine with the Constructicons. He sent out a subtle scan to take a closer look at his companion. 

::I had not considered the possibility before,:: Prowl shared as the scan washed over his frame. ::It was not a noticeable change until now, but you and I were never this far apart in top speed.::

::You've definitely got more mass than you did before,:: Jazz remarked when the scan finished, ::though it looks like your engine's more powerful too. I would’ve thought it would even out, but I'm perfectly willing to help you test it.::

::That would be beneficial. According to my internal scans and updated specs, my maximum engine output did indeed increase so perhaps there are factors we have not considered yet.::

::Let's try a couple different things then,:: Jazz said, thinking over their options. "Maybe a few more short runs first. How 'bout single laps, or even just sprinting down the straightaways to get some stats on acceleration, top speed, stopping distance, that sort of stuff? Once you've got some more data, we can do a long race. Ten laps'd be a nice even number."

::That is a suitable starting point. Let's start with a single lap and go from there.:: Prowl settled into a race ready position, and Jazz got into position beside him for the first test. 

It didn't take long. Neither did the next one, or the one after that. Soon enough they had run through all the tests they could come up with and were sitting stationary on the track cooling down while Prowl took a couple klik to run through the data they'd compiled.

::There is good news,:: he announced upon completing his analysis. ::My top speed should be the same as before my upgrades, however the increased mass does require a longer acceleration period. If we still intend to hold that extended race then I ought to be able to surpass you by lap eight or nine.:: It was actually a conservative estimate. He might even manage passing as soon as the sixth lap, but the chances were far lesser and heavily dependent on how Jazz did.

::Meaning I'll probably lose a ten lap race,:: Jazz concluded; assuming they went with his earlier suggestion. Though if Prowl wasn't sure and thought it could take as many as nine laps to pass him, he might still have a chance. Unable to resist the challenge, he decided to go for it. ::Bring it,:: he said confidently, inching up once again to the starting line. ::I want everything you've got.::

::I wouldn't dare give anything less,:: Prowl promised. As he pulled into place, he did try to smooth over the potential conflict Jazz's first statement indicated might exist. ::That is an estimate based on what I know of your stats and skills so there is no guarantee yet who will definitively win or lose. This race will simply be an actual challenge for you compared to the initial one.::

::That’s fine - I like a challenge. Start the countdown! In five… four… three… two… ONE!::

Jazz jumped forward with a squeal of tires, surpassing his previous starts to accelerate more rapidly than any time so far. Prowl had anticipated Jazz leaving him behind but he hadn't expected to almost literally see the dust cloud as he tore out of their starting line. ::Show off,:: he teased through the comm line to a silence he also anticipated. Jazz had to focus to maintain that speed, he supposed.

Flying into the first turn, Jazz flirted right on the edge of control and disaster with his speed, pushing to keep going as fast as possible without losing his rip on the track. It paid off as he accelerated again coming out of the turn, practically flying down the straightaway with a roar of his engine.

His lead now was much better than it had been in the first race… for the moment. It was hard to maintain that peak level of performance. Jazz had three quarters of a lap on Prowl by the time Prowl finished his first, but that lead slowly decreased as they kept going. By the start of his third lap Jazz was closer to half a lap ahead and by number four he was less than half. Between the races they'd run before and how hard he was straining his systems now, Jazz was going to be pretty tired by the end of this race. Hopefully his endurance would hold out! Though he suspected Prowl's would prove superior.

With so much of his attention on balancing his systems and making fine-tuned adjustments to his steering, Jazz didn't have much left to spare for tracking Prowl. Still, it was impossible not to notice him creeping up on him as they started on his sixth lap. Jazz was only just coming out of the first turn as Prowl entered it, and there were still three and a half laps left in the race.

The first significant systems warning flashed on his HUD as he accelerated into the seventh lap. _Might catch me without needin' an eighth lap after all,_ Jazz thought. _But not without workin' for it!_ He eased back on his engine by the tiniest of margins until the warning dropped down to a less critical level, though it did not disappear entirely. Jazz had good tires, but the heat building in his frame could adversely affect his braking if he didn't keep it under control. He flared his air intakes as far open as they would go, accepting the slight increase in drag along with the increased cooling.

The shift in speed was subtle - so much so that if he hadn't been so focused on Jazz, Prowl would have missed it. Trusting that Jazz would say something if he’d truly injured himself, Prowl poured a bit more power into his own engine. His acceleration didn't increase much but he continued to gain on Jazz. The turns would always favor him, and by the eighth lap his front tire was even with Jazz's back ones. 

The straightaway did cause Prowl to slip behind again briefly until he was nearly on Jazz's tail, but he made it back up and drew even with his opponent by the end of the lap. He kept inching forward throughout lap nine until Jazz's headlights were beside his doors. Victory was nearly his, but a lot could still happen in the final lap.

Jazz had done his best to keep from falling behind in the back and forth struggle for the lead, but it was like fighting against the tide as Prowl inexorably shrank the gap. Additional warnings, not quite failure or damage notices, popped up to indicate he was pushing his systems to their absolute limits. There was nothing more he could do to hold Prowl off; not without injuring himself, anyway.

Had this been a race to escape Decepticon territory with his life and vital intel, Jazz would have crossed that line without hesitation or regrets. Damage could be repaired. Making it back mattered more than the condition you returned in. But here and now, the only line he was supposed to be crossing was the finish line. There were no consequences for coming in second, and finishing _undamaged_ meant more than coming in first. Anyway - it was hardly shameful to lose to a mech like Prowl.

They came out of the last turn and onto the final straightaway with Prowl fully ahead of Jazz, his rear bumper just ahead of Jazz's front one. There wasn't enough road left for Jazz to make up a full frame-length, only some of it. In the end, he'd only managed to regain enough ground that his front tires crossed the finish line at almost the same time Prowl's back tires did.

::WOOHOO!!:: He let out a triumphant yell nonetheless. ::THAT was amazin'!:: He let his speed drop sharply, falling farther behind as Prowl reduced his speed more slowly. Heat poured off his frame and his fans worked full blast to help dump the excess. "Congratulations, Prowler!::

::It really was,:: Prowl replied, short of breath himself. ::You were even better than I anticipated. Consider me genuinely impressed.:: It may have come at the cost of his calculations, but he was accustomed to Jazz exceeding most of his predictions. He slowed to a stop then reversed to meet Jazz where he had rolled to a stop. ::I am not simply saying that either. If our race had been any shorter then I might not have been able to pass you at all.::

::I do try,:: Jazz said lightly, though the compliment warmed his heated frame further. ::You're a force to be reckoned with yourself you know.::  
Jazz started idling toward the side of the track, ready for a break. ::Been a long time since I pushed myself that hard,:: he admitted. With Prowl once again next to him and both of them no longer flying over the track, Jazz could feel heat radiating off Prowl’s frame as well. Hopefully that meant he wasn't the only one who could benefit from a rest. ::How 'bout you?::

::In this way? It has probably been far longer since I last tested my physical limits than it has for you.:: Prowl had spent his time at a desk while Jazz was out in the field doing dangerous work that _required_ physical exertion. It was better not to directly mention any of that though and he casually pushed the topic down a different path. ::Perhaps a short break is in order?:: He had definitely noticed how warm they both were and figured they were due. And the heat didn’t even factor in how much strain it must have been for Jazz to operate at that level for the entire race.

::You got it,:: Jazz agreed immediately, glad that Prowl had been the first to verbalize it. It was one thing to lose the race, but another if he'd been the only one unable to continue without a pause. Or without coolant.

They hadn't quite reached the edge of the track when they heard sounds by the entryway. Jazz checked his mirror to see the door opening and a small group of mechs walking in, presumably to make use of the track.

::Perfect timing,:: he commented to Prowl. ::We can let them have the lanes to themselves for a bit while we refresh ourselves.:: Rather than transforming right away, he waited to see if they'd been spotted while he looked over the group, interested to see if he recognized any of them.

The medium build mech in mixed blues and the larger orange and gray mech he was talking to were occasional patrons of the bar. Jazz had spoken with the latter a handful of times between sets - Roadflare was outgoing and easy to have a casual conversation with. Speedtrap was more reticent, in a quiet but not unfriendly kind of way, and Jazz wasn't as familiar with him. He wasn't even sure whether or not he was a member of the force; Roadflare could always have brought him as a guest if he wasn't. So could one of the others, assuming they were Enforcers too, but Jazz didn't know them at all.

"Did you want to stay and watch their race from the stands or head into a private room?" Prowl asked. While Jazz had been examining the new arrivals, Prowl had transformed after merely noting that they existed. Perhaps it was because this was labeled as such a safe place in his mind that he had no worries about others turning up. "There are several under the stands, given every design aspect of the original tracks was imitated."

::There are?:: Jazz asked, dropping his observations to flip through a slightly extended transformation sequence that allowed more heat to escape between armor plates as they shifted. He glanced back one more time as he settled on his feet - the new arrivals were all still busy talking to each other - then turned back to Prowl. "That'd probably be quieter and easier to watch and talk," he said. "You lead, I'll follow. Don't suppose there's coolant stashed around here somewhere that we could grab on the way?" he asked hopefully.

"There is no view out onto the racetrack from the rooms but that's because they served a rather particular purpose in Praxus." Prowl's volume dropped lower towards the end of his explanation, so as not to draw attention to that aspect of their conversation even though they were already walking away from the other group. "Racing against a mate was often a precursor to far more intimate acts, but mine was one of the only cities in which that was commonplace. And we certainly were the only city to be so accommodating to such. No one created outside of Praxus seems to understand the full potential utilization of the space but that works in our favor presently. The gossip would be incredible if we were seen doing this in the past."

Jazz had to stop and replay what Prowl had just told him to make certain he'd heard it right. Then he had to clamp down on the thoughts it triggered and his reactions to them; his fans were already on high from the race and couldn't give him away, but the deepening color of his visor would be pretty hard to mistake.

"That's - really? Huh. Um. Wow." Mentally Jazz slapped himself. _Wanna try a sentence with more than one word in it next?_ He collected himself and started over, only doing a little better. "Maybe we could talk about that. Ought to talk about that. Or not that, exactly...well maybe...you know what, let's go find that room, 'kay?" He definitely did not want to say anything else on the matter with a potential audience.

Prowl just gave an accepting flick of his wings before leading Jazz away. One of the mechs from the other group finally seemed to notice them and looked their way, he noted absently, but the mech looked away again without trying to initiate a shouted conversation across the distance.

He led Jazz through the doorway beneath one of the long stands. It was a t-intersection with the bottom short and the top spanning the distance of the stands. There was a door directly across from the entrance and several more on either side of the hallway, but it was to the closest one that Prowl moved, holding it open for Jazz. 

Inside the room beyond the door was a wide bench along much of the far wall, built directly into it, and a table that came out of the adjacent wall. Further examination would reveal that it could be folded up into the wall to tuck out of the way. There were also two chairs sharing the wall the doorway, one on either side, to be pulled forward if a group decided to relax in the room.

"Take a seat," Prowl offered as he dug into his subspace to pull out both some coolant and a couple energon cubes. He set it all on the table before speaking again. "There are places to collect refreshments here but I brought some along in case we needed to get you away from a situation. It certainly seems to have worked in our favor."

"I'm not so fragile an incident is that likely!" Jazz protested as he slid onto the bench. "But that was thoughtful of you," he said, and meant it. 

Both the coolant and the energon were welcome, though Jazz reached for the former first. He took a long drink, immediately feeling better for it. "What you said up there," he began, "about racing as...well, as foreplay. Where does that scenario fall on your list of desired activities?"

"It can be high," Prowl commented, "but only if I suspect that is my partner's goal. Interfacing was not on my list of expected outcomes this particular orn, so I retained firm control on any instincts and urges that might otherwise have been activated." He smiled then, a smile that verged on a playful smirk. "And a race like that certainly would have excited me if the option was available."

"You 'n me both!" Interfacing hadn't been on Jazz's plans for the orn either though, so he didn't let himself start contemplating specifics or details. "Can we put that in the category of things to think about for the future? I think I'd like to try that with you." He looked up at Prowl, expression open. "'Facing's something I'm interested in eventually, though I'll put this out there now - hardlinin' feels like my old job, meanin' I don't really enjoy it and it could be dangerous to try."

"I had suspected as much." Prowl took a moment to drink some coolant himself. "It certainly does fall in line with your previous work and anything that risky is better left alone. If you ever decide making the attempt is safe enough to be feasible however, I am certainly willing to try."

He took another sip then set his coolant down. "Do you wish to have this full conversation here and now or would you rather wait?"

"You brought it up first," Jazz pointed out with a smirk before taking another long drink. "It's kinda difficult to talk objectively about something like that when you're already runnin' hot though. I do want to have the discussion, but let's save it for later. How 'bout you tell me about that obstacle course instead? How is it usually integrated into a race?"

"Understandable," Prowl agreed with a nod before latching onto the topic change. "That's the fun of it; there is no set method of integration. During training exercises they are treated as completely separate things to save time, while testing might start or end with the obstacle course but include laps around the track as well. We could include it in the middle if we were so inclined however. I don't know if you noticed, but at a few points along the track the path does branch off into the center for driving access into the obstacle course. Many obstacles require utilizing one's root mode and I think you have the faster transformation between us, so that area would likely favor you. It does go without saying that you have the agility to handle it wonderfully as well."

"Pretty sure you're right about that." Jazz’s transformation might have some deliberate tweaks for style but at its core was still about optimization. That included both speed and the ability to go in and out of alt while moving without losing much momentum. "I did spot the turnoffs, but I couldn't see a clear path from one side of the obstacles to the other." He grinned at Prowl. "That'd be an advantage to you, since you know the course and I don't."

"I only have a passing knowledge of it honestly," Prowl commented. "I have not had much occasion to try out the obstacle course so my advantage would be minimal at best.”

“Well in that case,” Jazz said, finishing off his coolant with a satisfied sigh. “Wanna give a mixed run a shot when we head back out?" The idea of combining elements appealed to Jazz and he wondered how many laps would be a good balance to the obstacle course.

“That does sound like a fun challenge." Prowl smiled. "So I agree. Did you want to practice on any of the obstacles first?"

"We got enough time, why not?" Jazz reached for the energon next, though he didn't immediately start drinking as he kept talking instead. "That’d give us both a chance to learn the layout fully so we'd be on even footing.”

Prowl collected the other cube of energon as Jazz spoke, but ended up simply holding it as well while he listened. "That would be a suitable way to prevent any unfair advantages." He also agreed with the unstated, "and trying that alone first would help us determine exactly how evenly matched we may or may not be."

“Great,” Jazz grinned eagerly. “Then we can do a race with laps on either side of the obstacle course. We could make it longer than the race we just had so pacing and endurance would be important too."

“Both excellent things to pay attention to.” Prowl paused to take a drink and another thought ran through his processor. "Do we want to make the obstacles-only run into a race as well, or leave it as simply a trial?"

"As much as I love competition, let's start with a few no-pressure trials," Jazz suggested. "I wanna see how I measure up against myself first." It was the safer way to do it too since making the obstacle course into a race right away would make it more likely one or both of them could hurt themselves rushing over an unfamiliar apparatus. Plus, he really did want to be able to focus on his own skill without worrying about Prowl's at first.

A nod and accepting wing flick greeted Jazz's suggestion. "I see we are thinking similarly then. Would you like to try individually so we each get the chance to explore without getting in one another's way? Or do you prefer to retain that degree of difficulty?"

"I don't mind sharing, 'specially since we'll be dealing with that factor when it comes time to race," Jazz pointed out. "Though if the other group wants to play on the jungle gym with us it could get a little crowded." He leaned back on the bench, sipping his energon thoughtfully. "I know two of 'em from the bar, but not the others,” he mused curiously. “Do they all work at the station with you?"

"No," Prowl responded, "not yet, at least. Most of that group are trainees. You can tell because they do have a decal but not the full one. That was a system I made sure was implemented as quickly as possible so the public could identify us in an emergency."

Prowl took a sip with a thoughtful hum before continuing. "One of them is a full officer though; Roadflare, I believe his designation is? I don't know him personally but I make an effort to know all the successful graduates and full officers. I think he's mentoring one of our new recruits. I haven't met the bot yet although I would guess he is here as well."

"Roadflare's one of the two I recognize," Jazz said. "Speedtrap’s probably his trainee then, he's usually with him. The kid hangs back and doesn't talk much. I never got a good look at his decal before." The bar lighting sometimes made it difficult to make out smaller details. That didn't bother Jazz though. Frame language and EM fields were much more reliable for assessing a mech than his paint scheme or decorations, and neither had set off warning bells in his processor with those two. “Lucky them then, getting a free show from the best in the biz." Jazz smiled; showing off for Prowl was fun too, but he loved performing for a crowd.

"I do believe you are correct. That designation does sound familiar,” Prowl said thoughtfully. “And yes, if Speedtrap and the others are trainees they would likely hang back and watch us regardless. It is how these things work. Except for specifically designated orns for training or testing, track use is on a first come, first serve, turn based system. It is common courtesy not to run an overly long race when others are waiting for a turn and some racers will opens the track to anyone interested during their time but overall the system does work wonders."

"I should've guessed you have worked out something like that to keep things runnin' smoothly," Jazz said. "In that case we ought to wait for 'em to finish if they're doin' obstacles when we head back out." He sipped slowly at his energon, clearly not in a rush to do so just yet. "That and talk to 'em before monopolizin' the whole place for that mixed race. Which, by the way, I ain't plannin' to throw to save your reputation!" He winked, visor flickering playfully.

"Your reputation is not as important to them as mine is, however," Prowl responded in kind, teasing as well. “I could hardly be called one of the best if I let a potential criminal escape me." They shared a laugh before Prowl continued. "Speaking with them is not a bad idea though. Perhaps there are things we can teach them simply by letting them watch us. New teaching experiences are invaluable after all."

"Never pass up an opportunity to learn," Jazz said sagely. "If they pay attention I'm sure they'll pick up something whether we're actively teaching or not." His visor dimmed briefly, remembering times in the past when he'd played the role of instructor getting mechs ready for dangerous field missions and undercover ops. Those hadn't all been easy lessons, and he much preferred the situation they were in now.

"Clever bots will always pick up on new things to learn if they're paying attention," Prowl agreed before turning pensive. "Perhaps I should stop in and visit a few classes in the coming orns, just to check in and see if any of them did. I haven't looked in on this bunch yet."

"Heh. Maybe we should preface our trials with a disclaimer then," Jazz said, only half-joking. "Otherwise they might try something that's beyond them and you'll have to check in on them in medical instead." He took another drink before drawing himself up straight and droning in a serious tone. "This course is being run by highly trained professionals. Do not, I repeat, do not, attempt these stunts without appropriate safety gear and adequate supervision."

Prowl chuckled at that. "You still have much of that Earth culture ingrained, I see. Not that it's a bad thing. It's actually rather adorable." He gave a smile and his wings settled into a cant that spoke of sincerity. "As aggravating as it could be at times when I didn't understand it, I did always admire how quickly you adapted to such an alien culture."

Jazz fell out of his theatrical pose back into a relaxed one, feeling a warm rush at Prowl's words. "There's a lot of good to human culture - a lot of good in most alien cultures, actually. You just have to look for it and keep an open mind. If you aren't willing to see what's in front of you, you miss out on a lot of things."

"It's not that I don't understand that point," Prowl specified. "It's simply harder for me to wrap my processor around the differences as easily as others. You, however," and here he made sure Jazz was watching him to see his honesty. "You are honestly the best at it that I have ever encountered."

"Just doin' what comes naturally," Jazz said, trying to brush off the compliment even as it made that warm feeling deepen. "It's easy when it interests you. I like learnin' new stuff, seein' different things, investigating and observing. It's part of what made me so good at my job," he admitted.

"Natural does seem natural to be the right word," Prowl mused. "As much as most of that interests me as well, I am simply not nearly as good at it as you are."

"You got other talents," Jazz was quick to point out. "Sometimes I really envy how you're able to take an incomprehensible mess of data and turn it into something useful. I might be good at spotting some things, but you're able to find patterns that are invisible to me."

"True," Prowl agreed. "We do each have our own skill sets that seem impossible for others to understand. Differing but complementary. We have always made a great team for it." Unspoken was the hope that such would carry through and ensure they worked out as a couple as well. 

Jazz smiled in silent agreement as he took another drink. His energon was almost gone and the warning pop-ups had long since cleared from his HUD. "I'm almost ready to give the obstacles a shot," he said, though he didn't move to stand. "How are you doing? Your systems finished recovering yet?"

"I am good as well so we can probably return to the track once we finish our cubes." Prowl's own was not much more full than Jazz's but he didn't rush to finish it. Even in companionable silence, he enjoyed any time spent with Jazz.

Jazz nodded and just let the conversation trail off and relaxed a bit more, savoring the rest of his cube. Listening to the hum of Prowl's engine even without being right next to him was pleasant, and the pause gave him a chance to review their earlier races. He hadn't been able to look at all of the variables to do a complete analysis while he’d been driving and was pleased to note looking back that there weren't any glaring mistakes or missed opportunities. He could be proud of how he'd done.

Eventually they did finish their energon. Jazz stood and stretched, plates shifting over each other and revealing glimpses of the wiring beneath as he worked out what little stiffness there was in his joints from slouching on the bench.

"Shall we see what they're up to out there?" he asked, already on his way over to the door.

"Right. Of course." Jazz's words drew Prowl's focus back to the present from where he’d let it wander and he stood as well. He had already cleared their trash away, back into his subspace for proper disposal later. All that was left was to do was follow Jazz.


	15. Practice Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trial run through the obstacle course and a bit of warning for the viewers. The real race is coming up soon, folks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm lazy and a loser and fail at time management so I fell into a mini coma instead of editing this and that's why it's being posted so late. Sorry everyone! I hope I didn't wreck anyone's morning too badly.
> 
> ~Skylar

Prowl and Jazz reemerged from below the stands into the main area as a race was winding down. Roadflare was standing off to the side, watching the others speeding around the track. His stance suggested he was holding an open commline, which he was probably using to issue directions because all three racers stopped and transformed practically at once even though they were spaced out in different spots.

"Oh good, they're still on the track. Hey! Roadflare!" Jazz called, raising his voice to carry. "You mechs plannin' on usin' the middle any time soon?"

"Jazz!" Roadflare sounded surprised to see them; he must have been too distracted earlier to notice them as they'd been leaving. "No, we're just doing drills out here." He indicated the track then glanced over at Prowl. "Are you going to want the lanes at some point?" he asked, addressing his fellow enforcer.

"We would appreciate that after we've had our run through the obstacles," Prowl replied. As he spoke, all the trainees looked over to study him, moving out out of position for a better look. While Prowl did keep his attention on Roadflare as he spoke with him, he was able to analyze the others. Interestingly, two of the bots on the track, a duo with nearly identical frames, appeared to be in silent conversation but there were no detectable comm frequencies in the air. That was interesting. Twins would be a unique addition to the force.

"If you are in the middle of anything at that time we will be fine with waiting,” Prowl assured Roadflare. “We intend to run a mixed challenge once Jazz is familiar with the obstacle course."

"That will be something to see," Roadflare said with interest. "Let me know when you're ready and I'll have everyone take a break." That caught the trainees attention. They all looked curious, a couple of them fidgeting where they had stopped and shooting glances back and forth between their instructor and Jazz and Prowl.

"Thanks mech!" Jazz said brightly, then, ::What do you want to bet they get distracted tryin' to watch us before the race and he has to break early?:: He grinned at Prowl as they made their way across the track so the drills could continue. ::I think we're about to ruin his lesson plan.::

::Highly probable,:: Prowl agreed as he followed Jazz. ::So in that case...:: he switched back over to vocalizing his words out loud. "Would you like to wander through and explore first? Then we can do our trial run and test out obstacles after that. Or would you rather jump right in?"

"Hmm." Jazz walked up to the nearest obstacle, a series of small, widely spaced platforms over a loosely stretched mesh net that would clearly be impossible to walk on and difficult to crawl over if a mech fell from the elevated stepping stones. There was more than one path across, a low one which led into a ground-level obstacle and a high one that ended at the beginning of a different element suspended above the ground.

"Jumping in sounds good to me," he said, making good on his word and jumping to the first platform. He made his way over and upward, pausing halfway across to look back down at Prowl. "Active wandering!" he said, easily balancing on one foot. "Easier to see the layout from up here anyway. Let's look around a bit and see which obstacles test what and which route's the most challenging, then give it a test run."

"If you say so." Prowl chuckled at his companion's antics before following after him from the ground. 

He began re-familiarizing himself with the layout of the course, detouring around various obstacles before coming up against a low set wall at one end that he could just see over but would need to scale in order to pass. Attached but further along the wall was a section lacking any slots to assist climbing but which seemed to have a seam to it. Gripped by curiosity, Prowl wandered closer and pressed near the middle of the wall just to find it give slightly. It would need far more strength than he was using presently to open fully, but that might be an option for later. The complete wall did block off the connecting pathway back to the track on this side of the course.

"Let's start from here," he suggested, turning to locate Jazz as he spoke. "We can run through a variety of obstacles to find the ones best for us and then when we're racing we could take them in reverse? Just to add an intellectual level to this as well, if you are interested in that?"

"I like that plan," Jazz said, dropping down with a somersault from the medium-height catwalk he'd been casually traversing. He landed near Prowl as two of the trainees zoomed by on the track behind him, the sound of their tires masking what little sound his feet made when they hit the ground. 

"I thought you might." 

Jazz sized up the wall as he walked over. His shorter stature meant he was unable to see the narrow lane leading out from the ground, but he'd seen it from above before jumping down. Situated at the end of one of the straightaways, it would put them out into the beginning of one of the curved sections of the track; the opposite entry would have them coming in just as they finished the other turn. There were lanes leading in and out in the middle of the straightaways as well, but this was the longer pathway to traverse, with more options to choose from to do so.

The obstacles were scattered about with spaces between several of them but it was difficult to cross the area without attempting at least a couple. It was simply a matter of finding which ones worked best for one's own skills and frame type. Like the low hung netting which was designed to be crawled beneath? Definitely not something Prowl could manage, not with his wings to get in the way, but Jazz could manage easily. The pile of mostly fused scrap for scaling, on the other hand, was something Prowl’s slightly larger size might enable him to make better time than Jazz could.

"So this'll be where we exit back onto the track and we'll come in over there?" Jazz asked to confirm, one hand gesturing to the wall while the other pointed across the arena. 

"That is the idea, unless you have a better one?" Prowl offered, but Jazz had no arguments. "Do we want to put a minimum requirement for how many obstacles to hit or just see what happens?"

"I don't know that we need to set a minimum for obstacles since neither of us would go around everything without givin' it an honest effort," Jazz said. "We might say there's a minimum of three attempts on an obstacle once you've committed to it before skipping's allowed though, so we don’t wind up stuck." Not that he expected either of them to actually need that many do-overs, but it would be a good rule to have just in case.

"That works just fine for me," Prowl replied. He had already been factoring for what he could and couldn't manage so he would be able to avoid the worst ones for his own build. He couldn't imagine that Jazz had done much differently either.

Cables tensing as he prepared to spring into action again, Jazz looked at the options in front of him before looking at Prowl one last time. "This round's just us against ourselves, yeah?" He grinned wickedly. "Let's see if we can't make it flashy enough to cause a pileup!"

Prowl couldn't help a slight laugh. "You will have the upper hand there. I was never very good at 'flashy.'" He did shift his stance though, ready to begin moving once it was time. "Are we counting down to start together or just beginning on our own? Since this isn't the actual competition after all..."

"No countdown this time,” Jazz confirmed. “And that’s fine, I'll do flashy and you can do quiet competence. I happen to think the one is just as attractive as the other, if not moreso.” With a warm flicker of his field, Jazz set off toward the closest obstacle on his left, a series of springboards at staggered intervals. "See you at the other end - no rush!"

He approached at a medium jog so he wouldn't send himself flying off-target, hitting the first springboard and launching himself into the air with ease. He sailed through the air to rebound off the next springboard, flipping backwards as he changed direction towards the next. The aerial gymnastics definitely fit the definition of flashy, but they served a second, more practical purpose as well - adjusting his speed and trajectory. All the more reason to indulge in theatrics.

Jazz let out a loud whoop as he vaulted off one of the boards hands-first, drawing the attention of several of the trainees still driving around the track. Cheekily he waved at one of them before focusing back on where he was going. It wouldn't do to fumble now that they were watching.

Prowl was watching too, having made the mistake of pausing to watch at Jazz's first choice. That stalled him out for about half a klik before he remembered he had his own share of obstacles to tackle. He set out to make good on them.

The first couple were incredibly simple but then he came to one that was trickier than it looked. Raised platforms had been placed on either end of a sunken depression with several smaller platforms scattered between. The smaller platforms were on a pressure sensitive timer and designed to fall away after an indeterminate period of time, making speed an essential aspect to this obstacle.

Prowl took a moment to calculate the best pathway, and a few alternatives just in case, and then he began crossing.

Jazz, meanwhile, had elected to skip a set of suspended bars and chains set at different distances to swing across - difficult with a shorter reach - in favor of a different field filled with speed bumps, potholes, and hanging cables. Several of those cables had a low charge running through them that would sting if hit and as such were to be avoided. He could easily see which cables were live and which were decoys with his scanners, so he reverted to alt mode and started weaving through the pseudo-minefield.

The uneven ground meant he couldn't use anything near his top speed, but he was still able to make better time driving than running. It did make him grateful not to have extremely low racing suspension, however. The worst patch right in the middle would have required transforming back to get through otherwise. As it was, he just made it through without having to switch back. He skidded out of the obstacle with a squeal of his tires, stopping mere inches from hitting the first of a series of walls with varied gaps to climb, jump, or crawl through.

"Spotlight! Searchlight! Pull up!" Roadflare shouted as Jazz transformed. The twin trainees had almost run into Speedtrap, who had gotten distracted and fallen out of position. There was a sound of sharp breaking as they narrowly avoided a pileup. 

Chuckling, Jazz searched the arena to see how Prowl was progressing and if he'd noticed.

Prowl had, although it caused his last landing as he made it across the falling platforms to be messier than he'd wanted. The distraction had cost him time and he'd been forced to make his final leap as the platform was unlocking to drop, thus preventing him from obtaining the proper force to propel his jump. He had made it, but he was certainly grateful the trainees weren't watching him at that moment.

His attention returned to Jazz and he smiled seeing him looking his way. He decided to open a comm line to him but forego a proper greeting in favor of something a bit more bold. ::Quite the reckless stunt you just pulled. I had better not hear of any new recruits in the medcenter for trying to mimic you.::

::Aww, don't worry!:: Jazz answered smartly. ::I'm gonna give 'em my disclaimer, remember? Though I think they're about to get a bit of a talkin' to right now for not payin' attention.:: He nodded over to where Roadflare was gathering up the group, his expression stern. ::Anyway, that wasn't reckless. I was in complete control the entire time. Now this - _this_ is reckless!:: 

As soon as he finished his sentence, Jazz went from standing casually to running along the wall in front of him instead of ducking through it, bypassing that obstacle in favor of one of the tallest ones on the course - a set of ziplines strung in both directions between two towers. Jazz scaled it with ease, but rather than stopping at the intended platform to glide across on the zipline he continued to climb until he had pulled himself up to stand with no rails or guards at the very top of the tower.

It took Prowl a moment as Jazz passed the platform, but he realized it by the time he reached the top. ::Oh no you don't,:: he cautioned over the line. His wings were up and twitching faintly in concern as he stared. ::Jazz, you will wreck yourself if you fall.::

::Good thing I ain't gonna fall then.::

Slowly and deliberately Jazz stepped up to the edge where the ziplines were secured, stopping in front of one of them and bringing his arms up gracefully to aid with balance. Sliding one foot out he tested the tension, bouncing it slightly to get a feel for it.

Then, with a quick salute, he walked out onto the wire.

Prowl was frozen as he watched. The calculations were already running for how dangerous this was and how many things could go wrong and how badly, but even if he had wanted to he was unable to pull them up. His entire focus was transfixed on the mech risking himself so needlessly.

Out on the track, Roadflare was busy scolding the trainees when one of them suddenly cried out to look up. All of them did, Roadflare included, to see Jazz as he started his stunt. Collectively the trainees were all shocked and impressed, though their instructor simply shook his helm. "That bot is going to wind up offing himself," he muttered to no one in particular.

Jazz didn't hear him from his precarious position up above, though he didn't miss the trainees' excited exclamations. He kept an audial tuned on them but didn't look down. Having committed to this, he needed to keep most of his attention on what he was doing.

While not designed for it by any means, the zipline made for a perfectly serviceable slackline. Jazz began making his way out to the middle of the wire, shifting his center of gravity over it with the aid of his arms and microtransformations of his plating as he went. Most of his movement was in his feet, the rubber of his tires providing grip on the wire while the more mobile components worked and pivoted as he first slid forward, then began to actually walk along the wire.

Placing one foot in front of the other was hardly very interesting, he thought. Not that the point was to be doing tricks! The point was to reach the other side without falling. Jazz was confident he could catch the wire and hand-over-hand to the far tower if he slipped, avoiding a painful collision with the ground, but that wouldn't be as cool as staying on top the whole way across.

The urge to do more than just walk was strong though. Jazz slowed and then paused when he reached the halfway point, weighing his options.

It took Prowl only a few moments to realize why Jazz had stopped and his spark constricted once again. He even opened his comm line to warn him not to do whatever he was contemplating but stopped before he'd picked out the frequency to call. It was too dangerous, the incoming message might ruin Jazz's focus. He would never be able to forgive himself if he was directly the reason Jazz got hurt.

Still deliberating, Jazz allowed himself a careful look around the room. The trainees' faces were a mix of awe and concern, especially Speedtrap's. He looked like he was expecting Jazz to fall any second. Roadflare looked concerned too, but he wasn't watching Jazz. He was trying to get his students' attention while occasionally shooting glances over to where Prowl was standing.

The Praxian was tense and rigid, worry clear in his posture and the set of his door wings. Seeing Prowl like that, Jazz felt his need to indulge in theatrics subsiding. Foregoing the fancier jumps or drops he had been thinking about giving a shot, Jazz carefully shifted his balance and slid one foot back to take a long, slow bow instead. The movement was graceful and controlled, barely causing the wire to wobble at all as he straightened. Then he took up his walk again.

Jazz continued until he was close enough to jump the final distance to the tower, his feet ringing on the metal. The trainees started cheering, breaking the anxious silence that had fallen over the room. Jazz bowed once more and waved to them. "Thank you, thank you! No photos or autographs, please - and no imitations! Highwire's somethin' that needs a lot of practice on the ground before you take it to the air or you can really hurt yourself." 

Then he left them to Roadflare, turning to face Prowl. ::There! That wasn't so bad, was it?::

Prowl finally let himself to relax only after the comm came through. It hadn't felt real until he'd heard Jazz's voice, albeit over a commline but still as chipper and safe as ever. It was one thing to know Jazz was capable of crazy stunts like that (and Primus forbid, even worse!) but it was another to being subjected to watching without even the option to help him until something went wrong. 

He told Jazz as much when he replied. ::It's a wonder you made it through everything. If this is the sort of insanity you indulge in for fun, I dread knowing what you were forced to do for work.::

::Aw.:: Jazz didn't so much climb down the tower as engage in a kind of controlled drop, holding on with his hands and skipping over most of the rungs of the ladder before breaking at the ground. ::Insanity's a bit harsh, don't you think?:: He backtracked over to where Prowl was standing. ::But you're right, I've done crazier. And it taught me within a micron where my limits are. I know what I can and can't do, Prowl, and trust me - that was the easy version.::

::I understand that logically,:: Prowl assured him as he let his gaze wander the other's frame for visual confirmation that he was fine. ::But logic does little to prevent fear gripping one's spark.:: Usually he would not make such an admission in public, especially when there was still some cheering from the trainees not currently being scolded again by Roadflare, but their conversation was private and this was Jazz. He trusted him not to misuse what he heard.

Jazz kept a respectable distance physically in deference to their audience, but he reached out with a gentle reassuring pulse of his EM field in lieu of the hug he wanted to give Prowl. ::I didn't realize it'd bother you so much,:: he said by way of an apology. ::I'm touched you were worried, but I wasn't tryin' to scare you.:: He looked over at Roadflare giving his lecture a little sheepishly. "I hope they listen and don't decide to try that for themselves. When I was talkin' before about teaching them new things that wasn't what I had in mind. It sorta just happened."

"You had better hope they don't or you might find yourself banned." It was a warning that was both honest and joking at the same time. "Although, thankfully, I doubt any of them have the same capacity you do to even reach such a position."

Privately, he continued, ::I didn't anticipate it would be a concern either.:: He still wanted to reach out and confirm physically that Jazz was okay but at least that desire was finally subsiding. It was always an option for later. ::I do know you should be capable of such stunts, but it's certainly another thing to be watching with no ability to affect the situation.::

::You didn't like feelin' helpless,:: Jazz summarized, understanding. ::I get that, and I'll try to keep it in mind next time I start improvisin'.::

Out loud he said, "I hope they don't ban me! I'd hate to not be able to come back." He frowned, concerned. "You think I should say anything to them before we continue? Or just keep goin' and trust Roadflare to handle it? Maybe I should comp him a drink next time he's in the bar for this..."

"Comping him a drink or two would not be a bad idea," Prowl agreed. "And we could always speak to them when we finish here. Unless you think you've done enough exploring already?"

"We've still got about a third of the arena left," Jazz pointed out. "Let's run through the rest of the setup and its intended uses, then check with them before starting our actual race. If you're cool with that," he added, stopping himself as he was about to take off again.

"That works," Prowl agreed, then backtracked topics momentarily. "What you did was truly impressive. I am sorry my irrational fears prevented me from seeing the situation objectively and offering the praise you deserved sooner." His wings dipped in apology that Jazz might or might not have recognized.

“So, is this you offerin' praise now?" Jazz asked, a hopeful note sneaking into his teasing tone as he brightened. "I ain't gonna hold your reaction against you, believe me - not when I have my own irrational troubles. I was just tryin' to prove how awesome I am."

"You don't need to show off for me to understand how 'awesome' you are." The human term sounded strange to Prowl coming from his vocalizer but otherwise the words were openly sincere. "It was still impressive however." Prowl did manage a smile. "Are you ready to continue?"

"I am now," Jazz smiled. "Thank you."

With that, Jazz started for the next obstacle, dropping to the ground to begin working his way past and under a series of barriers. Some were harder than others to avoid, requiring some careful wriggling and maneuvering to bypass, particularly those along the most direct path. As small and flexible as he was, even Jazz was forced to take it slowly or risk getting stuck.

Prowl let his gaze follow Jazz for a klik and noted a few places where different choices would have yielded better results, but that was something that he could mention later. Presently, it was time to take stock of his options.

He currently had two options for continuing: one was a rope that would swing him in Jazz's general direction while the other was a flat and rather thin beam that went off at almost the exact opposite angle. Both sat above a shared vat of cushiony bricks in varying sizes that was walled off beneath the platform from the levers that operated the platforms he had just crossed. Falling into the cushioning material would do no damage but the bricks would also impede movement greatly. There was a ladder back up to the platform and another across the way, but traversing the area was best done above the pool of foam.

After a very brief debate, Prowl opted for the balance beam. It was a far better match for his capabilities.

On the ground, Jazz finally crawled the rest of the way out from under the last web of netting, a feat he found much easier once he rolled onto his back and used his hands to pull himself along. He got clear and stood up, looking around to see where Prowl was and had to suppress a laugh when he saw him engaged in his own balancing act. It was amusing given Prowl's reaction to his own previous stunt. _'Course, he's at ground level with somethin' safe to land on, or rather, in, if he falls_ , Jazz had to admit. _I wasn’t._

Prowl was too engrossed in his task to notice he had Jazz's attention. The beam was just challenging enough that he had to give it his full attention. He hadn't tested his balance like this since his upgrades so it was a challenge of unanticipated difficulty. His arms were up as he moved and even his sensor wings shifted as necessary to assist his balance.

Jazz could tell Prowl wasn't entirely certain of his movements. Some of his corrections were jerky and while his steps weren't quite hesitant, they were very careful. He watched a moment longer before moving on; Prowl might not be able to take the obstacle quickly, but he was perfectly capable of getting across without losing anything but time.

Not interested in losing any more of that himself, even if they weren't actually racing yet, Jazz continued toward the other end of the course. He mostly kept his focus on his own progress but occasionally diverted his attention to check on Prowl's, and on their audience.

The group had moved up into the stands to have a better view. Jazz spotted Roadflare pointing and pantomiming a couple of times while they watched, explaining how to tackle different obstacles. It was hard to tell which they were discussing at that distance without being able to hear them. Roadflare wasn't going to win any prizes for charades.

Prowl wouldn’t have been able to comment, this time not allowing himself to be distracted until after he had successfully crossed the balance beam. He dropped down to the ground instead of using the ladder down from the platform since the distance was short enough. Only then did he take a look around to see what Jazz was up to and casually noted their audience had moved and Roadflare appeared to be answering questions. After doing so, he moved on to his next obstacle.

He quickly reached the final obstacle but rather than run it just yet, he chose to wait for Jazz. This one had one particular detail to it that required explanation and would be more fun to do together.

Jazz didn’t keep him waiting long, drawing up next to him shortly after. “What are you supposed to do with this one?" he asked, giving it a critical once-over. Red, green, yellow, and blue stones dotted the field in front of them, some closer, some spread apart. "It looks too easy - what's the catch?"

"You do as I'm sure you've already guessed," Prowl shared. He bid Jazz a smile before continuing, using a variant of the official description. "The objective is simple; you pick a color and cross using only that one. If you end up on anything but your chosen color then you are to restart."

In private though, he added more. ::There is no catch for you, not technically. It is probably our most important obstacle for potential recruits however. The only things keeping one to their color are honesty and integrity. If a trainee lacks either value then they are a bad candidate to become an enforcer. It helps limit the potential for corruption if those prone to it are not given a position they can then misuse.::

::That is a very good idea. Taking more care early on helps prevents abuses later,:: Jazz agreed. ::Don’t worry, you can count on me to own any mistakes I make. I promise I won't set a bad example with this one.:: Out loud he asked, "You got a preference on color?"

"Not especially," Prowl answered. "I'll even let you make the first move." He did start to say something more before hesitating, and then went through with it anyway. "Let it be known though, that I have no concerns over your integrity."

"Given what I used to do, a lot of mechs would," Jazz said, stepping up to the line marking the border just in front of a blue space. "Means a lot to me that you don't."

As soon as Jazz stepped out onto the blue tile, several of the spaces out in front of him changed colors. The pattern scrambled so the blue he'd been planning to skip to next was now yellow. "Well! I wasn't expecting that!" He caught himself quickly, pulling his foot back as he laughed. “That complicates things a bit, doesn't it?" A short leap brought him to a blue that had appeared nearby and once again the pattern changed as soon as he landed on it. "Oh, I like this. This is fun!"

"The system runs on an algorithm simple enough that even the humans could probably understand it," Prowl explained as he stepped up to the edge. "The shifting is semi-randomized based on a complex enough pattern even _I_ would need to study for a long time in order to predict. It's also pressure sensitive so that theoretically no space is ever too far away for the one using that color to reach a space of their color, though it might not be easily reachable or take them in the right direction."

Prowl smirked and stepped forward onto the first red space he could reach. Unlike when Jazz moved however, no spaces changed color this time. "Instructors also have a code that holds the field static, to make it even more interesting on trainees if they so choose."

"Meaning it won't change when you move, just when I do? Or it'll change when you move, but only if you want it to?” Jazz guessed. “Nice. You're gonna make this hard for me, aren't you?" He grinned, eager for the challenge. "It's still random though, right? You can only make 'em change or not change, not strand me on an island surrounded by all the wrong colors?" He sidestepped a green as he spoke to get to the nearby blue, watching both the ground and Prowl as he moved.

"All the code does is inhibit the stones from changing while I am transmitting it. Transitions can be either drawn out or happen in short bursts but it only has any effect in the few moments after initial pressure and can only keep the colors as they are." He kept watch on Jazz watching him but didn't move yet. "I do not intend to use it at all during our proper race, rest assured. I simply thought you might find it interesting."

"I do!" Jazz nodded, grin still firmly in place. "But it's definitely something I wouldn't want to deal with in the actual race."

Selecting another blue space a few more spaces away, Jazz jumped toward it.

Prowl watched and waited as Jazz made his next move before taking his own. Another red stone had turned up close to him and the Praxian was soon on it and seeking out his next move. As he'd said, he made no more use of the code to keep the colors from changing.

The space Jazz had been planning to go for changed as soon as Prowl moved. He switched gears and hastily picked another, pausing after reaching it. Timing his moves around Prowl's was tricky - the colors changing any time either of them moved really forced him to slow down.

Inevitably, it finally happened that both of them tried to move at the same time. Prowl's foot touched down first since he was only stepping toward a closer space rather than jumping toward a farther one, and as soon as his weight was on it the blue beneath Jazz's feet turned red.

"Scrap!" Jazz looked around quickly for a new blue but it was too late to alter his jump to reach one. He came down on the red stone and stopped, trying for a stern expression as he looked up at Prowl even though he was really only amused, not annoyed. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?" he mock-accused. "Guess I need to start over. How'm I supposed to get back without messin' up all the tiles on you?"

"Just go ahead. I can hold everything static," Prowl reminded him. "Although it won't be detrimental to me as long as I remain here and wait for you to reach the beginning."

"True. Bet some trainees figure that out the hard way their first time, not payin' attention to when someone has to start over." In good humor, Jazz walked back to the edge they'd started from and began again. He jumped to a blue stone farther into the field than the one he could have stepped to easily, taking advantage of being able to get a little bit of a running start to make up some of the distance he'd lost.

"Yet another method of testing them," Prowl shared. "How perceptive are you to notice it? How able to find a work around? In some of the more complicated runs everyone gets their own string of colors they must use to cross but they might need to go from a red space on one side of the field to a yellow on the opposite one. Thus, it becomes a game of teamwork, to coordinate so others can cross and help you get the colors you need."

As he spoke, Prowl found his next space and decided to take advantage of how close it was while Jazz didn't seem to also be moving. Sending someone back to the beginning repeatedly, even unintentionally, did rapidly drain amusement from the challenge.

Jazz jumped again a fraction of a second after Prowl landed and the colors had finished shifting. "This's a really creative element," he said admiringly, straightening from his landing crouch to survey the new layout. As if to illustrate Prowl's point, he was now surrounded mostly by greens and reds, the nearest blue not one he could easily get to.

He stood waiting for Prowl, hoping for a better selection after his next move. "I like that you can use it in so many ways. Was it one that was recreated from the old courses, or something new your team came up with?"

Prowl moved again before answering. "It is a bit of both. The exact design is different but the application remains the same. There were a couple different enforcer racetracks and the specific obstacles and layouts varied but there were always similarities."

"Something old and something new." Jazz leapt at the chance to reach an easier blue that had appeared closer to him. "It's really great to be able to bring back a bit of that cultural heritage here, you know? Even if it's a secret from the general populace."

"It is nice, isn't it?" Prowl commented. He hadn't known how to feel at first when he found that his team now shared some of his knowledge related to his fallen city. Irrationally, it had first felt like a betrayal. Even inadvertently, he had still allowed outsiders to know more than they ought to about the city. Once he had isolated and analyzed the feeling though, he had pushed it away. There could be no rebuild if outsiders were not allowed some information and it was long past the time for such biases to exist anyway. He pushed such thoughts aside again now as they bubbled up so he wasn't distracted from the task at hand.

Paying more attention to when Prowl was moving this time than he had before, Jazz was able to avoid getting sent back to the beginning again. They mostly traded turns, each taking one step or leap before waiting for the other, though occasionally they would wait and let the other take a second turn in hopes of making their next move easier. The combination of long and short moves soon had them almost side by side again, despite Jazz’s earlier setback.

Soon they were practically at the end, one more space each before the goal was in reach, and Jazz was once more surrounded by everything but blue squares. Prowl glanced over after finding his next move; Jazz's landing had placed a red almost directly in front of him. "Do you want to call this match a draw?" he offered. "The floor seems to hate you this time."

"It certainly does," Jazz muttered, surveying his options. The only blue within a reasonable distance was behind him, and while he might be able to reach another off to his left, it wouldn't get him any closer to the finish. It would be a purely lateral move, and only if he made it. He was tempted to try anyway. The distance wasn't impossible from a standing start, just difficult. As long as he stuck the landing, he could hope the next blue stone would allow him to move forward enough to jump clear of the field. The only problem was that if he missed the landing, he'd have to start all over...again.

Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor. "I'm good calling this one a draw. I'd rather move on to the real thing! How long do you want to make this race?"

"I'll leave that up to your discretion," Prowl stated as he stepped across a yellow space and then off the field. "Now that you've tried out the course, how many laps do you think you can handle in addition to it? 10? 15? More? And how many are we going to have on either side of the obstacles?"

"It'd be nice to have enough to add a real endurance element, but not so many we wind up keeping the others off the track forever. Or so long we fall over at the end of it!" Jazz joined Prowl back on regular ground, stepping through yellow, red, and a blue that appeared right as he reached the edge. "If we put more laps in front you'll wind up in the lead, but I'm thinkin' I'll be able to catch up in here." He tried to think of a balance that wouldn't overly favor either of them. "We could do eighteen laps, split two thirds before and one after. My first thought was twenty, but that wouldn't divide evenly."

"Twenty one splits nicely, but I agree on eighteen. It's not overly long and the obstacles more than make up for it."

As he spoke, Prowl had started to lead Jazz out of the obstacle course and onto the main track. Rather than stopping there though, he continued until he was closer to the stands underneath where their spectators were seated and called up to Roadflare. "Would it be too much trouble to allow us to run one proper race now, or would you prefer if we waited for your lesson to be completed?"

"I thought we'd make watching your race part of the lesson," Roadflare replied. "Our schedule's flexible and it's a good opportunity for them see some real skill in action and discuss some of the more advanced techniques. Besides," his optics flickered over to Jazz meaningfully, "I think we've already proven you two are a bit of a distraction."

Jazz laughed at that. "Sorry Roadflare," he said, somehow managing to actually sound apologetic. "I wasn't tryin' to cause any accidents."

"You're lucky you didn't," Roadflare said, turning a stern optic on the others. "All of you are lucky. _That_ is the most important lesson I want all of you leaving with today - stay aware of your surroundings."

Prowl nodded along with Roadflare's words to the trainees. "We are both highly skilled and have been training and practicing for an incredibly long time. Perhaps even longer than some of you have been online."

Roadflare had to quiet the protests that almost started, but it only took a look this time. Letting his wings sink apologetically, Prowl also offered apology in his tone. "We will go begin. The sooner we do, the sooner you can reclaim the lanes."

"Don't rush on our account," Roadflare insisted, nodding acceptance of the unspoken apology. "How long a race are you planning on running?"

"Eighteen laps, cutting through the obstacles part way through," Jazz answered. "After that I think we'll probably be done for the day, since we’d been here a while already before you all showed up."

Roadflare accepted that with another nod before turning to the trainees. "Listen up. You're about to see how a pair of professionals handles the full course. Afterwards, I want each of you to report to me on anything you saw that could be adapted for your own use someday. Remember, I know each of your styles and I want to see some creativity in your answers."

Meanwhile, the duo on the ground had moved back to the track to take up their starting places. Prowl was first to shift down into vehicle mode and he commed Jazz almost before finishing. ::Are you ready?::

::Ready,:: Jazz confirmed, dropping to his tires beside Prowl. ::Don't get complacent when you get ahead of me! It's anyone's race.::

::Yes it is.:: Prowl revved his engine playfully in response. ::Shall we begin? On three.::

::Two.::

::ONE!::


	16. And the Winner is...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Racetime! Both competitors are highly skilled and an even match for one another. Who will win this contest? And what fallout is there to deal with afterwards?

::Three.::

::Two.::

::ONE!::

At the end of the countdown Prowl and Jazz both jumped forward off the starting line, eager to begin their long combination track-and-obstacle race. It was no surprise when Jazz tore ahead immediately, though he took a smaller lead than before. It was difficult to tell whether it was due more to Jazz conserving his energy or Prowl driving quicker out of anticipation. Jazz was a magnificent opponent and their skills were well matched in different ways, making this contest a real challenge to win.

Jazz was a little more careful to moderate how hard he pushed his engine this time as they raced around the track. Holding the lead now wasn't as important as keeping enough in reserve to retake it later. His experience from earlier helped, enabling him to more consistently hit the right balance of speed and angle coming in and out of the turns. It reduced his need to brake and accelerate as much, and let him hold onto the lead for longer than he'd anticipated.

Despite Prowl's earlier assessment it wasn't until the middle of the tenth lap when he did manage to pass Jazz. From there his lead steadily grew and by the time he entered the obstacle course and transformed for the first one, the colored squares from this direction, Jazz was coming out of the far turn. Of course, this section could be anyone's game but Prowl began quickly in an attempt to not lose much of his lead.

As Jazz came up on the turn off into the obstacle course he decelerated, but skipped coming to a complete stop. Instead, he rolled up onto his feet a few lengths ahead of the first line of stones and ran the rest of the way toward them on foot, launching himself into the air just as he reached the edge. He tucked his knees up, crouching in midair before starting back down and extending his feet to control his landing. He sat down into it to absorb the momentum, not quite touching his hands down as he steadied himself.

Prowl was crossing on the reds again, which Jazz had expected, but he'd already decided he wasn't necessarily going to repeat the blues. All he'd been trying to do was find the farthest not-red space he could reach when he jumped, which wound up being yellow. He straightened slightly, knees bent and arms held loosely at his sides ready to jump again as he looked around for his next move.

There was another yellow in front of him, a single stone away to the right. Jazz glanced up towards Prowl, whose feet had just left the stone he was standing on. His yellow was closer than Prowl's intended red, and Jazz considered taking the step and switching the colors on him. Then he dismissed the thought. Besides not being a nice thing to do, it wouldn't be very wise - Prowl's processor made him much better suited to sabotage Jazz on this element than Jazz was to sabotage him. Prowl wouldn't mess with him unless Jazz started something, and Jazz wasn't going to throw the first punch, metaphorically speaking. They had an audience after all.

Another yellow appeared in front and to his left after Prowl landed and Jazz quickly skipped to it before Prowl could pick his next target. He didn't have another quick move when the colors settled again, however, so he paused to wait for Prowl and see what he was going to do.

Prowl had only just located his next red when the colors changed unexpectedly. He glanced back and saw Jazz, much closer than he'd expected. Prowl couldn't help an indulgent but soft laugh. The gap might have been closed but Jazz certainly was stranded currently. He gave a teasing wing flick before remembering Jazz might not understand the meaning and then turned his attention to the field before him. There was a close red ahead and to the right that he normally would choose but another one was straight ahead and just a little further than he would usually attempt. It would be worth the risk this time though, to reclaim some of his lead.

Decided, Prowl took the jump. His increased mass was still something he had to consciously factor for and thus his landing was not nearly as smooth as he'd intended, but he did make it with no problem. Just a bit of embarrassment over the sloppy landing. He skipped over scanning the stones around him to see what Jazz intended. If he moved then it didn't matter what was before the Praxian now because they would all change anyway.

Which they did, as Jazz hopped to his next space almost immediately after Prowl landed, to a close yellow diagonally left and forward. He grinned over at Prowl, returning his earlier wing flick with an abbreviated bow.

Back and forth they continued across the field, alternating seamlessly and coordinating without a word. The luck in how the colors came up allowed Jazz to get a bit closer but not to pass Prowl before the Praxian reached the far side. Once he was off the field Jazz was able to move more quickly, though he did have to backtrack at one point when the only yellow space he could get to was behind him and there was no more waiting for a more favorable configuration.

Jazz finished just as Prowl was coming out of his second obstacle, a speed based one where the goal was to get around the objects that stood making a clear but twisting pathway. He shifted his attention for just a moment to take note of where Jazz was before returning his full attention to the next obstacle, which would bring him to the balancing beam from before. He knew he would lose some time there so he had to try and create a buffer zone now.

With Prowl doing so well, Jazz started feeling the pressure to up his game. He had a couple of choices for which path to take: one that lead toward the series of low-hanging obstacles he'd crawled through before, and another that would involve crossing over a sand pit using a series of spinning drums and platforms. The former he'd had difficulty moving quickly through, but the latter would be easy to fall from. It would also require starting from the beginning for each new attempt, since there was no way to climb back up except at either end of the pit.

Deciding that the familiar was the better bet, Jazz veered off through the next obstacle toward it. He flipped over onto his back as soon as he reached the first net, tucking down his plating to avoid catching on anything while he pushed with his feet and pulled with his hands. He didn't need to be able to see ahead to navigate; having come through before, all he needed to do was play back his memory of it in reverse to know what lay in his path.

The moment he cleared the final low barrier, he used it to pull himself vertical in one swift motion. Prowl was out on the balance beam when he looked over at him, close to the end with just a short way ahead of him. Not pausing this time to watch him, Jazz took off again, eager to recapture the lead at last.

As Prowl came off the beam his attention drifted to Jazz, finding him slightly ahead of him! Jazz managed to maintain and even increase that lead slightly by properly utilizing the zip line he had played on before. That set him already in the following obstacle by the time Prowl dropped off the platform of his finished task. 

The obstacle Prowl chose next was a series of risers at varying heights that went up, over and back down above an empty space. The climb was fairly steep but overall faster than the field of ropes off to the left, especially with his build. After that, he would be at the wall marking the edge of this side of the obstacle course. One good strong hit should open it and then he could transform and return to racing.

Jazz, meanwhile, was already in alt-mode again, navigate the wire-strewn speed bumps. Unfortunately for him, Prowl's journey across the risers was the more direct route than his zigzag path. He'd lost his lead by the time he got back to his feet and headed for the springboards, arriving at the first one just in time to see Prowl strike the wall and push through the opening his shove created.

Something clicked in his processor as the wall snapped shut again and he heard the roar of Prowl’s engine as he took off back toward the track. Laser-focused, Jazz hit the springboard at a full run, ricocheting of it into the second in a tight, fast arc. He built speed through the pass, not bothering with twists or flips and then, on the final board, he poured all that momentum into a trajectory that launched him straight at the wall.

_Now_ he twisted, bringing his frame around and stretching his arms out in front of him. He came in just high enough to catch the front edge of the wall with his hands, sending a twinge racing up his right arm from his wrist as he threw himself into a back handspring to vault over the top of it. Ignoring the momentary pain, Jazz pushed as hard as he could off the wall, rotating to transform midair. He started his tires spinning before they made contact with the ground and as soon as they did he was off, chasing after Prowl as fast as he could go.

To the mechs watching in the stands, the execution probably looked smooth and effortless. To Jazz, it was anything but, a thin veneer of tight, controlled steering masking recklessness as he almost spun out on the first turn. He kept on course by the slimmest of margins, feeling the strain as he accelerated hard into the straightaway. Modified minimalistic notations blinked in the corner of his HUD, tagged as information rather than warnings. He ignored them and pressed on, inching up on Prowl's bumper as they started their second lap almost together.

Unaware of Jazz's progress, Prowl was mildly surprised to find that he'd already lost what little lead he had when he noticed his presence behind him. Pressing his engine harder gave him a bit more speed but it was only a fractional increase, and not enough to match Jazz's acceleration. 

He managed to hold out through the first turn of the second lap but in the straightaway Jazz first pulled up even with him, then inched his way forward. Jazz kept enough speed in the turn that Prowl could only just pull even once more before Jazz was darting away on the next straight shot. 

In response, Prowl pushed himself harder. None of his readings were in the red quite yet, but they sure were close. Still, the effort paid off as they started the third of their final six laps and Prowl caught Jazz again in the turn. This time Jazz didn't pull as far away as the track straightened, almost but not quite getting a full length ahead as they came up on the second curve.

The systems alerts on Jazz's HUD escalated in severity, pinging past the suppression protocols to inform him he could only do one more lap at this pace safely. Stubbornly unwilling to give in to his limitations until he absolutely had to, Jazz went for maximum one last time. His tires squealed against the track, fighting for distance while Prowl edged in front of him again.

Despite giving everything he had he was only able to inch his front bumper ahead of Prowl's slightly on the next straightaway. At the beginning of the fourth lap, Prowl pulled in front of him and stayed there. Jazz finally gave in to the warnings and dropped back a gear, still racing hard but no longer straining his engine to the top of his specs.

Unsure what to expect when Jazz fell back, Prowl kept his speed up. If Jazz had any tricks he might pull then he ought to try and anticipate them. It didn't mean he would be able to keep the lead if Jazz did do anything unexpected but it might help.

He didn’t need to have worried. Prowl was a full length ahead as they came out of the last turn and he crossed their imaginary finish line ahead of Jazz. 

Dropping a couple gears at one time, Prowl fell into another, much slower, lap as a cool down and opened up his comm line. Win or lose, congratulations were in order for such a thrilling race. ::Good race,:: he cheered on the other. ::It was exhausting but definitely fun.::

::Exhaustin' is right!:: Jazz caught up and then matched Prowl, joining him for the cool down. Heat poured off them both as they drove; Jazz could feel the warm drafts off Prowl's armor and was sure Prowl felt the same from him. He took stock as they continued to slow, working to disengage the suppression programs that were still running. His coolant levels were once again lower, but still within a reasonable range; there were a number of minor, surface level scuffs and scrapes on his plating from his aggressive approach to some of the obstacles, but again, nothing serious… ::It really was a fantastic race,:: he said as he continued to scan the readout, pouting over the line. “Even if I wasn't able to beat you after all! And I was soooo close, too!::

::You were incredibly close. I didn't think I was going to be able to pass you again and I was certain you would squeeze out this victory too.:: Prowl shifted a bit closer and reached out his field to brush Jazz's with a mixture of comfort, reassurance, and affection. ::I can try and make it up to you though,:: he offered, albeit cautiously. ::You were a wonderful challenge to race against regardless of the outcome.::

::Yeah? You'll make it up to me? I feel better already.:: Jazz reached back, confirming with his field that he wasn't truly upset even though he continued to pout. ::I really wanted to be able to surprise you at the end! Buuuut I figured a blown tire or ruptured fuel line wasn't the kind of surprise you'd appreciate.:: Especially since he suspected he had already acquired an injury by that point in the race. ::I'd reached the point where I could have kept pushing but might've damaged something trying. So I guess you could say that technically, I let you win!::

Sure enough, as his masking protocols finally fell away completely, one real problem emerged- the wrist he'd landed on poorly vaulting over the wall. That sobered him somewhat as they came to a stop and transformed. The sequence didn't put any weight on his wrist, but twisting through it pulled uncomfortably. Jazz winced slightly, trying to keep the brief spike of pain from being too noticeable.

::I wouldn't consider it a win if you had to injure yourself for it,:: Prowl replied, speaking before his own transformation. ::Especially in a friendly contest like this.::

Changing forms had not been enough distraction for Prowl not to notice Jazz's wince however, and he instinctively took a step closer. "It seems you managed anyway," he mused softly. Their spectators should be too high in the stands to hear them but he kept his volume low anyway. "How bad is it?"

"I'm fine," Jazz said, also speaking quietly. He instinctively turned his frame to draw his injured hand out of Prowl's reach, making the movement look as casual as possible rather than deliberate. It was only after he saw Prowl's optics zero in on his wrist that he realized in doing so he had given away where he was injured.

He huffed a sigh through his vents. "Okay, so I landed on it a bit funny at the end of the obstacle course, but it's nothing serious. It's probably just a stripped screw or a compressed line, no big deal. See? It doesn't even hurt that much." He raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in a delicate wave in illustration, biting down on the pain the motion caused.

"Jazz," Prowl began but never got the chance to continue as suddenly another voice spoke over his.

"That was so cool!" shouted one of the trainees. This one was Searchlight, one of the obviously most distracted during their initial trial of the obstacles. His second comment was directed at Jazz specifically even though he stood nearer to Prowl. "I didn't even think the springboards could be used like that. Totally awesome!"

His was not the only voice giving praise as the duo found themselves suddenly surrounded by the trainees. They didn't press quite close enough to touch, but they were close enough to crowd them.

"Sorry," Roadflare chuckled as he came to join the group, although he remained a a distance from the rest. "They were insistent on coming down to congratulate and compliment you. All things considered, your overall times were impressive."

Jazz smiled brightly at the small assemblage, focusing on them over Prowl's disapproval. "Why thank you! Congratulations and compliments are always welcome!" He struck a dramatic pose, bringing his one hand behind his frame and the other up to his chest. "The Jazzmeister would hate to let down his adoring fans!"

"It looked like a lot of fun!" Searchlight was practically bouncing in place, clearly eager to give some of the obstacles a try himself.

"It looked really difficult," a much quieter voice countered. Speedtrap was looking at his fellow trainee like he thought he was going to get into trouble, though there was open admiration in his optics when he looked back at Jazz and especially at Prowl. "It must have taken you a long time to get so good."

"You bet it did," Jazz nodded. "It took a long time and a lot of practice, and a lot of being careful! So listen to what Roadflare tells you 'bout what you are and aren't ready to try yet, okay?"

The collective group gave disappointed acceptances, with Searchlight being especially reluctant, but they were given. Roadflare did offer an approving look for a moment but he said nothing on the topic. That left Prowl a chance to be the next speaker. "As fun and thrilling as this has been, we should be leaving. There is somewhere we need to get to and we don't want to be late. Not to mention that we've derailed your lessons long enough."

"You heard the mech," Roadflare picked up over assorted groans and complaints. He began ushering them away. "There's one more thing on the agenda and I still want those reports before any of you get to leave."

As soon as the rest had moved a short distance away, Prowl turned to Jazz, wings canted in questioning. "Shall we leave then?"

"After you," Jazz replied, watching the trainees break up to begin their next exercise. He could hear Searchlight and Spotlight still excitedly discussing his acrobatics, but Speedtrap was definitely more interested in Prowl's less theatrical but solid performance, going by his comments.

"You've got a fan," Jazz told Prowl as they began walking toward the exit, nodding back over his shoulder. ::What exactly do we not want to be late for?:: he asked privately. He was glad that Prowl had made their excuses so quickly, but they hadn't actually made any concrete plans for what to do after coming to the track prior to arriving at it.

Prowl's wings gave a few flicks between Jazz's words and catching those of the new recruits behind them. "I certainly hope they all attempt to employ more of my skills and fewer of yours," he offered out loud. "Those are the ones more likely to make it as it shows a greater regard of one's self during training. Skills and dedication are good but rushing needlessly into danger more often results in an additional offline frame. It's a lesson they need to learn before beginning so they learn when to take those risks later."

They reached the door as Prowl replied to Jazz’s question via comm. ::First, we need to get somewhere more private so you will admit that you are injured. Hopefully you will even let me see to confirm whether it is bad or not.::

"Hey now!" Jazz protested, his voice rising slightly from the hushed tone he'd been using earlier. "I was not rushing needlessly into anything just now, and there ain't nothin' wrong with havin' the moves to help you cross unconventional terrain in creative ways. You just have to know what you're doing! Why shouldn't they learn some of my skills too, as long as they go about it the right way?"

He went to cross his arms but then stopped, resting his good hand on his hip instead and leaving the other at his side. ::I told you, it's not bad.:: he insisted, contrary to his behavior. ::But if it makes you feel better to take a look at it we'll go somewhere you can take a look at it. Where were you thinking?:: His expression sharpened. ::I'm still perfectly good to drive, by the way.::

"And you are no longer an untrained newbie," Prowl countered. "Your skill set is far above their current level, meaning they could get seriously injured by attempting the same degree of stunt you just pulled. They need to train up to that level first." They were alone in the short hallway connecting the race track to the outer halls, prompting Prowl’s offer. ::We could pause and look at it here? If it seems bad enough we can stop by a medcenter. I do know one with a very low patient volume if you'd prefer not to be seen visiting one.::

::I don't _need_ to visit one,:: Jazz argued, but he stepped over to the side of the hall anyway without further complaint. He lifted his hand so Prowl could examine his wrist, starting an internal diagnostic of his own. At the level of detail he was running it, it would take a klik or two to complete.

::So?:: he asked in the meantime, the tiniest bit of concern finally making its way into his words. ::How bad is it?::

Prowl joined him off to the side, wings spreading slightly behind him to give a semblance of privacy as he began to examine the injury. Gently taking up Jazz's wrist, he first did a visual examination, then a careful physical one by squeezing select areas with a light compression. After that he tried bending the joint slowly as he also focused on Jazz's reactions.

::You are right in that you haven't wrecked it yet but it does seem too sensitive for a simple sprain. Perhaps something is caught within?::

Jazz hissed slightly as Prowl manipulated his wrist. ::Yeah, maybe. I'm waitin' on the diagnostic.:: It didn't really hurt to move his fingers, but bending or twisting his wrist was painful. ::I came down hard kinda hard on it, maybe something got displaced.::

A moment later the diagnostic pinged back a confirmation of his guess. ::Yup, compression on the landing bent one of the actuator brackets.:: Jazz swore. That kind of damage was tricky enough to repair with two good hands, and right now he only had one.

::You'll be all right,:: Prowl spoke up. ::We can visit Hook's medcenter. We'll have access to all the proper equipment and the team is supposed to be working on a project in central Iacon so we'll be undisturbed. Is that suitable?::

::If you're willin' to help me out, absolutely,:: Jazz agreed, pushing away from the wall to continue out the door. ::Let's go; we don't want to be _late_ , after all!:: 

He shifted into altmode carefully so as not to compress his wrist further as much as possible. For once he had no trouble obeying the speed limit, not only to keep jostling to a minimum but because he was still a bit tired from their race. Fortunately, even driving at a reasonable pace they still made good time to the medcenter, as there wasn't much traffic out that way.

Though he'd been the first to stop, Prowl let Jazz transform first when they arrived because his focus was directed more internally. He had to take a few moments to prepare himself for when he opened up his end of the link, especially if he was wrong and his team was here for some reason or other. Instead, they were all strangely muted. A feature of distance, Prowl had determined early on, though he was having trouble distinguishing all of them in the odd quiet.

Mentally shrugging off any worry because they would contact him if something had happened, Prowl closed his side up again and transformed to join Jazz near the entrance. "Everything's fine, they're not here. How are you doing? No worse I hope."

"No worse, but no better," Jazz said, glaring at the offending wrist. "This shouldn't have happened. Stupid mistake." The only thing Jazz had done _wrong_ was let his protocols skew his risk tolerances and attempt a jump that was almost too far to make. At the worst he should have come up short and had to catch the top of the wall to stop himself and cling before pulling himself over. Winding up with this kind of damage was embarrassing, and it meant he hadn't even been able to enjoy Prowl holding his hand earlier...thank goodness no one else was around to witness his failings.

"At least we can afford to make stupid mistakes now," Prowl commented as though aware of his thoughts. "It is one perk of peacetime." He offered an appraising look for a moment judging how that statement came across and if Jazz was hiding anything from him. All he could definitively tell was that Jazz was annoyed by the injury, and given his words it was most probably due to how he’d gotten it. "Let's go. That won't fix itself and the longer we remain out here the more chance there is that someone might notice us."

Jazz followed Prowl with only a short nod, not saying anything further. His steps sounded leaden rather than lively. Sulking wasn't exactly becoming and he knew it, but it was hard to let it go. Prowl was right - the mistake hadn't cost him any more than his pride, whereas in the past it could have meant his life. The trouble was that he still had subroutines running ruthlessly in the back of his processor, analyzing what he'd done wrong and pointing out all the ways the relatively simple injury made him vulnerable until it was repaired. Shutting those down was not an easy task.

He really hoped that between the two of them they would be able to make the necessary repairs. Once the damage reports cleared, the protocols would shut down automatically. Then he could stop expending energy on them and get back to enjoying the rest of their date.

Prowl, however, kept quiet as they walked for the simple reason that he didn't know what to say. Normally conversation was much easier between them but when Jazz went silent it always meant something bad was happening or about to happen. The circumstances and situation were so incredibly different now though, and there was no way yet to know if his experience in reading Jazz’s moods was still correct. With no better options, he remained silent to observe. It also helped that he was trying to figure out where they would find the equipment they needed.

After a few klik of searching, Prowl did finally locate the appropriate tools. He might have done so more quickly by simply calling one of the Constructicons to ask, but that would have alerted the whole team and they might have invited themselves along to "help." One or two could be helpful, particularly Hook, but all five would be unnecessary and chaotic.

Prowl frowned as he set the last tool down, and it wasn't entirely due to that line of thought.

"What's wrong?" Jazz asked, noting Prowl's expression. He tried not to let it put him further on edge and hoped that it wasn't a sign he had messed everything up. They'd been having a good time and he didn't want to ruin that completely. "Couldn't find something?" he guessed, trying to think of a reason for Prowl's reaction.

Prowl's answer came slowly, hesitant. "No, that's not it." He exvented a soft sigh. "I just realized that I don't know what I'm doing." He turned to glance over the tools again before looking back to Jazz. Even his doorwings were pulled back and giving a rare twitch. "I understand the procedure and can visualize some of the steps but I don't actually know how to work any of _this_." At the last word, he swept an arm above the pile of tools.

"You don't?" Jazz looked between the tools and Prowl, surprised. "But you were handling everything so professionally..." his words trailed off as a thought occurred to him. "It's knowledge you have from the Constructicons, but don't have fully integrated, isn't it?" He actually laughed, the strangeness of the situation helping to break a little bit of the tension. "That's not something I was expecting!"

"Apparently so," Prowl mused in agreement, though his frown remained while Jazz laughed. "I was not expecting that either. It truly did feel so natural." He exvented another low sigh, wings sinking. "I suppose, since we're here anyway, I should contact Hook so he can come help," Prowl offered. "Unless you would rather drive to another medcenter, but I don't like the idea of you risking your wrist through additional transformations."

"Hey, whoa, there's no need for that!" Jazz said, holding up his good hand to forestall Prowl. "Hang on, I can stabilize it myself." He reached for the tools and started working to pry back the access panel. It didn't come up as easily as it was supposed to, but Jazz ignored the pain, not cutting the sensory data feed so he could feel what he was doing. "I got this, just hand me the thing over there would you?"

"Jazz! Stop that!" Prowl reached over when he paused to try and claim the tool from him. "Give me that before you hurt yourself. Even if you knew what you were doing, you still only have one hand to work with and that's going to hinder you. Not only does Hook know what he's doing, he isn't the patient working on himself."

"It just needs to be bent back into place a little bit!" Jazz pulled the tool away from his wrist and out of Prowl's reach before trying for a compromise. "How's this? I'll patch it for now and then see Ratchet about it tomorrow. That way we don't have to lose any more time to this." Or see a medic about it and admit what had happened.

"Or you could get this properly resolved now and save me the worry that you will just ignore it like I _know_ you are prone to doing," Prowl countered. His wings flared slightly as he spoke, adding to the demand nonverbally.

Jazz's visor darkened at that. His plating flattened defensively, though it was in no way a submissive response. "If I say I'll see Ratchet, then I'll see Ratchet," he snapped. Never mind that the promise was open and vague with plenty of room for loopholes. Couldn't Prowl tell that he wanted to drop it?

"Will you really?" Prowl shot back. "About this issue? In the morning like you said? Promise me all three, and that you will allow him to check the wrist you injured _and_ repair what might need it in the morning, and if I believe your sincerity then I'll let the issue go. But you still don't get to mess with it yourself."

"Primus, Prowl!" Jazz swore, fingers tightening on the tool still gripped in his good hand. He could have lied convincingly to anyone else, but not to Prowl, and only partly because Prowl would be looking so closely for one. The thought of deliberately giving his word to Prowl with the intention of breaking it left a bad taste in his mouth, and Jazz wasn't able to say the words around it.

With a low growl of frustration, Jazz threw down the tool. It clattered loudly on the table with the others, almost knocking one of them to the floor as it bounced to a halt, teetering on the edge. "I don't want to have to explain this," he muttered, his displeasure at having been cornered evident in his voice. "I don't want it in my chart!" Not just because it would be an embarrassment to have it there, but because the incident was indicative of issues with his Ops protocols. Jazz did not want a simple wrist repair getting escalated to a psych eval. Granted that was a worst-case scenario outcome, but still! It would make any medic he went to more suspicious of anything in the future.

He looked up at Prowl, his expression both angry and just a touch pleading. "Please?"

Prowl never got the chance to respond as the door opened unexpectedly behind him to reveal Hook, who stood there surveying the scene with disbelief. "Do I want to ask what the two of you are doing here and why you're playing with my equipment?"

Jazz's helm jerked up to fix the intruder with a stare. He didn't pull his wrist off the table or reach for any of the tools again yet, but his frame tensed, readying to move. "What are _you_ doin' here?" he countered flatly, ignoring Hook's question. Unspoken even over comms but perfectly clear to Prowl nonetheless was the accusing _you said he wasn't here_.

"This is my medcenter so I have more right than either of you to be here."

"What he means to say," Prowl cut in before Jazz could in hopes of keeping tempers in check, "is that you surprised us. We did not expect you to be here."

Hook had looked towards his boss as the mech spoke and studied him for a moment before speaking. "I was finishing up some detail work on a project and didn't want any distractions, so I sent the others off and blocked the bond. That much, at least, should sound familiar to you." Bitter as they could have been, there was no malice in the words. In some aspects they were incredibly similar, and an enjoyment of peace and quiet was one of those shared traits.

"Well why don't we let you get back to doing that then? Don't mind us, we were just leaving." Jazz stood from where he was sitting, ignoring the open panel in his arm. "I sure was, anyway." It was at least mollifying to know Prowl really hadn't known about Hook being here, and that he hadn't called him without Jazz saying he was alright with it first. That didn't make him any happier about the situation though.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Hook replied. He was still blocking the doorway, and his bulk ensured there was no room to leave. "One of you must be injured if you came here and the way you're acting tells me that it's you. Now sit back down and let me see what's wrong."

Jazz stopped, not trying to walk forward but not sitting back down either. His systems had gone almost completely silent, which made the grinding noise in his wrist stand out clearly as he reflexively clenched his hands at his sides. It must have hurt, but his expression didn't waver in the slightest.

For all appearances still engaged in his attempt to stare Hook down, Jazz glanced over at Prowl behind his visor.

::You'll be fine, Jazz.:: The comm came with no indication of whether Prowl knew he was staring at him or not. ::He won't harm you, and especially not while I am present. I trust him. Can you trust my judgment?::

Reframing it in that context made a difference. Jazz might not be completely comfortable with Hook but he did trust Prowl, and Prowl's judgment. Prowl actually seemed more relaxed now that Hook was here than he had been earlier. His frame wasn't telegraphing the same amount of worry as before, and Jazz could tell he really did have confidence in Hook's skill and intentions.

It didn't eliminate his own wariness, but it was enough for Jazz to be able to back up and retake his seat. "Okay, okay," he said, reluctant but not quite so confrontational. He laid his arm back on the table, fingers still curled loosely. "You can look at it."

Hook, who had wisely hung back as Jazz dealt with whatever internal conflict he seemed to be going through, took that as his cue to step forward. He focused first on reorganizing his tools into their proper places but even as he was doing that he questioned Jazz. "So how did you do it? I need to know what not to fix again if you make the same stupid mistake twice."

It was so like something Ratchet would have said that Jazz found himself chuckling and answering in spite of himself. "Landed on it too hard at an awkward angle," he said, avoiding any specifics. "It was just a minor accident, no big deal."

Hook didn't respond to that out loud, but he did comm Prowl for verification. ::How true are his words?::

Ignoring his surprise at being messaged in that way, Prowl answered quickly enough. ::I brought him to the enforcer track and we were testing some of the obstacles when it occurred so he isn't lying. Although he is lacking in many details.::

The last part brought a barely visible frown to Prowl's features but Hook either didn't notice or simply disregarded it as he finally reached for Jazz's wrist. "It is an easy fix," he muttered as he looked but kept up the examination for several moments after understanding the injury. It was nearly a klik before he asked his next question. "Do you have any mods I need to worry about triggering while I work? I hate nasty surprises." And his tone suggested Jazz would hardly be the first if the answer was yes.

Jazz started to shake his helm, then paused, frowning. "I was gonna say no, not as long as I’m conscious, but it'd help if you pinged me your med ID first," he admitted. "I know it's gonna hurt, so it's not like the pain'll trigger anything." Although his fingers still hadn't uncurled completely from before, and if Hook was going to have to move up into his hand to fix that too..."Might wanna watch out for the mag grip in my hand, 'specially if those tools're ferromagnetic." That wouldn't be good for either of them if it fired up and wrenched the pliers out of Hook's hand.

Hook sent the requested ID. He was no more eager to be attacked than Jazz apparently was to be treated. It wasn't until Jazz had acknowledged the data that he reached over and shifted Jazz's arm so he could see inside better. After half a klik he scoffed softly. "I'd say you're still one lucky fragger. If the landing had been just a bit different or you jostled your wrist too much then you could have shredded cables that would need to be replaced too."

Jazz grimaced at the thought. "No thank you very much, I'll pass on that!" Replacing cables was a lengthy process, and depending on which ones were severed, better done while the patient was offline. "I knew the lines were compressed so I was tryin' not to make it worse."

They way Hook was holding his arm in his large hands felt strange to Jazz. He wasn't sure how he was managing it, but the Constructicon's grip was firm without being restricting, keeping his arm still but not trapping it. The urge to pull away was still there, but most of that was related to Jazz's discomfort with medics in general, not Hook in particular, and it wasn't as strong as he'd expected.

"At least you have some sense," Hook muttered as he refocused fully on his task. The repair would not take overly long, but it would still be several klik even without distractions. There would be pain too, during certain parts at least, but he took care not to cause any more than necessary. Hook even made a point to warn his patient when he knew it was coming.

Jazz didn't relax during the procedure, but he also refrained from being actively combative the way he often was with Ratchet. Hook probably didn't appreciate the difference, but from Prowl's perspective Jazz looked like the picture of cooperation, despite his occasional fidgeting.

Since Hook already knew when something was going to hurt him, Jazz didn't bother trying to hide it when it did. He did keep his reactions muted however, rather than exaggerating them for dramatic effect. Mostly he was quiet, keeping a close optic on what Hook was doing while every so often covertly looking to Prowl for reassurance from his calm stance.

::He certainly can be difficult.:: Prowl received as Hook was finishing up. He had finished the work and was on his penultimate check of all aspects before a last test and final visual check. ::Can't he?::

::He has acted worse,:: Prowl replied. ::Given his former profession however, it shouldn't be a surprise he dislikes allowing others to tweak anything on his frame or in his systems, even when it is necessary. There are many still harboring traces of wartime behaviors.:: Himself included, as he had admitted to Jazz before. Given the conversation they’d had that night, Prowl was actually incredibly impressed with how well Jazz was doing. He was stressed, yes, but not displaying any of the signs of or signalling for an impending crisis. ::You were once an enemy as well, so that complicates this situation further.::

Hook didn't respond to that. Instead he spoke out loud to Jazz. "That should be it. Try moving your fingers."

Looking down at his hand, Jazz curled and flexed each digit one by one while Hook looked on intently. There was no grinding or catching and no pain, just smooth, fluid range of movement. "It sure feels better," he admitted. ::You were right,:: he continued privately to Prowl. ::He knows what he's doing.::

Jazz still hesitated before trying to move his wrist. While he was pretty sure that Hook had finished except for closing up, it was better to be certain. "Does this mean I'm good as new then?" he asked hopefully.

Jazz didn’t receive an immediate answer. Hook was busy looking over every part one last time, but finally he closed the access panel and looked to Jazz's face. "You are now as good as can be," he declared. "I hope you try to keep it that way. You'll also need to tell your usual medic about this. There's no system for sharing yet but I can send you the details to pass along."

"Perfect. Ping 'em over," Jazz requested, though as soon as he had the data he buried it in his processor rather than preparing to send it to Ratchet. If the other medic ever _really_ needed to know the details, Jazz would provide them then. Otherwise, it would be like it had never even happened.

Assuming Prowl was ready to stop worrying about it. "All right, I got a clean bill of health. See?" Jazz told him, waving his hand easily. "Your excellent doctor patched me up and I'm good to go again." And he was - with the repairs done and the record of it locked away, Jazz's protocols had started winding down, even with Hook still in the room. That had his spirits lifting in spite of any lingering irritation, and the somewhat sarcastic grin on his face warmed into a genuine smile.

"I'm glad to hear that," Prowl replied, because he really was. And then he added, because Jazz might not say so sincerely, "thank you for your assistance. We certainly could not have safely done this without you."

"It is my job," was Hook's calm, and somewhat blatant, response. While outwardly stoic however, had the link been open on either his or Prowl's side Hook's pride and satisfaction would have been easily felt; both in his work and receiving the thanks such work deserved. And on top of all of that, _Jazz_ had trusted him to do it... "Good luck keeping him in one piece. Now get out of here, both of you. I need to clean up before I can go anywhere and you're in my way."

"We won't take up any more of your time then," Jazz promised, hopping down and rejoining Prowl as the two made their way toward the door. "Thanks," he added, and meant it.

They made it partway down the hall, far enough that they could no longer hear Hook straightening things in the silence that stretched between them, when Jazz slowed and stopped. He looked up at Prowl and then down again, feeling almost like he should apologize, but he wanted Prowl to apologize to him too.

Prowl stopped when Jazz did, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, the Praxian took the opportunity to speak first. "I certainly hope you are going to get that information to your regular medic at some point."

The comment sparked annoyance, but Jazz knew Prowl meant well. "I will," he said calmly instead of snapping, telling himself not to overreact. He didn't want to start arguing again. Looking back up, he continued, "I...look, I don't like anyone messin' with my systems, even a medic. It makes me real nervous." He traced the seams of the access panel on his wrist absently, soothing a non-existent itch. "But I wasn't bein' all that nice and you were just tryin' to help, both of you. So...I'm sorry."

Prowl's wings flicked a few times in surprise. "I didn't think there was anything for you to apologize for," he stated. "It is logical that you would feel that way and you are not the only one who dislikes medics. Many former soldiers still feel the same." He exvented a soft sigh before before continuing. "I still should not have pressured you into it however, and I am sorry for that. I let my own worries supersede your opinion and choices and that was wrong of me."

"Just cuz it's logical doesn't mean it's okay to snap at you for caring about me," Jazz said quietly. "And I do appreciate you caring, Prowl." Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Jazz reached over to take Prowl's hand. "You pushin' me to get it fixed right was a good thing in the long run, anyway. Though the apology is still nice." He squeezed his newly repaired fingers. "We good?"

"I believe so," Prowl replied. "I appreciate your apology as well, although your concerns make complete sense and I do not hold it against you in the slightest." He flicked his wings once. Would it be appropriate to... "At the risk of estranging you once again..." Prowl trailed off as he stepped closer. Before Jazz could comment, he leaned in and carefully pressed his lips to Jazz's.

Jazz almost couldn't believe it at first; he stood still, unmoving, feeling like his thoughts were lagging. Then his processor caught up and he realized - Prowl was really kissing him! Joy burst through his EM field, though physically he didn't do more than tilt his helm slightly for a better angle and press back gently. His grip on Prowl's hand tightened, twining their fingers together firmly.

Prowl held the kiss for just a little longer, delighted by Jazz’s reactions. It was far more than he had even hoped would occur. Eventually he did draw back slightly. Their frames were still touching but their faces were far enough apart to comfortably speak. "I hope you found that as pleasant as I did."

"Pleasant?" Jazz repeated, sounding a bit dazed. "Prowler, that...that was wonderful." He honestly hadn't expected anything like that after what had happened, but he had absolutely no problem with it. "And if you liked it as much as I did? Then it must be worth doing again." 

This time it was Jazz who leaned in to close the distance between them, initiating a second kiss. This one didn't last as long but it was every bit as sparkfelt, for all that it remained as relatively chaste as the first had been.

When Jazz pulled back again, he was smiling. "If that was your plan to cheer me up after losing the race, maybe I should lose to you more often!"

Prowl's sensorpanels fluttered behind him as he looked away for a moment. "I... Well, I've been thinking about it for a while now but I didn't know when would be a good time to plan on asking you. I'd finally committed to doing it after our race, whether as a reward if you won or apology if I did but I forgot to factor for spectators. Then you were injured and we had to make this detour and I jus-... In the end I resorted to trying one of your tactics and decided to simply 'wing it', as the humans say."

"Sometimes the humans know what they're talking about," Jazz nodded. "I'm glad you went for it, since I didn't have a clue how to ask you! You did a pretty good job of improvisin' there. And I like the idea that win or lose, I still get you."

Prowl's sensor panels moved even more at that as he realized just how much he had revealed but he did manage to speak. Even if the words were slow to come. "I _have_ liked you for a long time. If you have liked me even half as long then it is only natural to want to try that. I am merely grateful that you accepted." And even more so that he had initiated a second kiss! "And pleased it went well. However, perhaps we should remove ourselves to somewhere even less public than this if we intend to continue?"

"Agreed. Since I _do_ want to kiss you again." Despite the words Jazz didn't do so right then, though he did press closer to Prowl one more time. "I've liked you so long I'd gotten to the point I thought I'd never get to," he said before slowly stepping back, reluctantly letting go of Prowl's hand. "Did you want to head to my place or yours? Yours is a little bit closer, but mine has the awkward couch we can tetris ourselves onto and cuddle." He grinned. "I found a better one for your doorwings, but it won't be delivered until the orn after next, so it doesn't really help us now."

"That is an unexpected but incredibly sweet gesture." Prowl certainly never would have expected Jazz to change anything in his own home and it had been so normal for so long that Prowl simply had to deal with equipment and furniture designed for other builds that he was uniquely touched by the gesture. He barely even noticed the struggle anymore and put it out of his mind so quickly later that it may as well have never existed. To find that Jazz had noticed and even taken steps to _help_ spoke volumes; practically as much as the returned kiss. Perhaps more. Feelings of giddiness and joy at being around a partner could fade and meant little for lasting potential, but to find someone who gave enough attention to notice all the little things and cared enough to make changes in _their own_ life... That was a rare treasure.

"Let's go to my place, because it is closer." Prowl smiled. "We can wait and break in your new couch when it arrives then. How does that sound to you?"

"It sounds like a good plan," Jazz said happily. "You always did come up with the best ones." He danced a couple steps down the hall then pivoted on one foot to twirl around and face Prowl. "Let's go!"

Jazz continued walking backwards just in front of Prowl even after the Praxian caught up with him, though he was forced to turn around when they reached the door to open it. Skipping down to the road he transformed, waiting for Prowl so they could head out at a reasonable pace. There had been enough racing already; now it was time to just relax and enjoy the rest of their orn off together.


	17. Heard it Through the Grapevine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret's out of the bag. How will the lovely couple react to that fact becoming public knowledge? Or at least popular gossip fodder once more...

"So, is that him?" Skybyte questioned as he joined Jazz by the bar. He'd watched the duo enter, talking quietly together then splitting apart once inside. Prowl had gone to find a table, it seemed, while Jazz came to get the drinks. That was fine though. Now he could question his co-musician and friend.

"I noticed the admirer's gifts stopped but you never shared the resolution. I'm guessing you caught 'im in the act though." The words were spoken with a casual helm nod towards the table Prowl had settled at. "Judging by what I'm hearing anyway. So share."

It took a moment for Jazz to follow what his friend was saying, having not expected the sudden conversation. When the words registered he was glad he didn’t have the drinks yet, lest he drop one. "And just what is it you been hearin'?" he asked slowly, stalling for time. Sure, he and Prowl had been dating now for a couple metacycles, but they'd been quiet about it. They weren't even on a real date right now - Prowl had just come off his shift at work and Jazz was due to start his in a joor, so they were just grabbing a chance to refuel and talk together.

 _Maybe here's something we oughta talk about, if there's rumors startin' to spread_ , Jazz thought. They hadn't really discussed what to do about telling anyone about their relationship status, beyond agreeing not to make some kind of announcement yet. Right now, that seemed like a pretty big oversight. Of course Skybyte at the very least, and likely others as well, would have noticed when the gifts stopped.

"Had some other enforcers in here a while back talking about you and yours sneaking off together right after they meet you," Skybyte replied, resting casually against the bar as he started sharing. "You were onstage and I was sitting nearby on break when one of them pointed you out to the rest. I was gonna ask but forgot by the time the night ended. 

“Then they came in again a few nights later with a larger group and their conversation started with some of them thinking their chief was bonded to the job and how weird it was he didn't live in his office anymore. The others retold the tale about the two of you and another patron, a mech I know used to be a 'Con too, practically choked on his high grade."

The sharkformer smirked, a frightening look with that massive mouth of teeth. He was clearly enjoying this. "Ya wanna know what he said?"

Jazz kept his frame language relaxed and casual to cover his growing concern. Skybyte hadn't mentioned the secret track, but the only group of enforcers that Jazz and Prowl had encountered together were Roadflare and his group of trainees, who had indeed seen them leave together. Twice, actually: once to go below the stands and again after the race.

Primus only knew what sort of things they'd said, even if Prowl was right and they were unaware of the particular historical use for the rooms beneath the stands that they hadn't taken advantage of. Not that they'd have needed much more than their designations in tandem to catch the interest of a former 'Con. 

"I'm a little afraid to ask now," Jazz drawled, keeping his tone light, "but I'll bite. What'd he say?"

"He said, an' I quote, 'they really are together‽'" Skybyte twisted his expression into one of shock in attempted mimicry of the mech's own features at the time. "'Course we all heard the rumors back in the war, but none a' us ever really thought they were true. 'Cept now I got myself an in on the situation so you gotta share. How long have you two been together? And why'd he randomly send ya gifts just to stop soon after?" Another idea entered his processor and he couldn't help voicing it. "Or was it someone else an' he scared 'em away?"

"Ahaha, how long have we been together?" Jazz laughed, sounding a bit strained. He glanced back at the table where Prowl was waiting, oblivious to their conversation and the rumors. Would he be more offended if Jazz confirmed them without talking to him, or if he denied them? Either way he had to say something, and he needed to say it now. There was no time to ask Prowl his preference, even over comms.

"Well, I can tell you right now the rumors of us bein' a thing during the war ain't true," he prevaricated. "Whatever anyone says, we weren't an item..." Jazz let his words trail off, weighing his options one last time before throwing caution to the wind. "...back then.” Whatever Prowl's reaction, it felt amazing to be able to say those words. “We didn't want to go makin' a big deal out of it since it's all still pretty new, so don't go announcin' it over the loudspeakers or nothin', okay? But yeah - me 'n Prowl. Though it wasn't him sendin' the gifts."

"So he really _did_ scare off whoever it was?" Skybyte questioned before making a point to look that way too and study him from a distance. "The mech doesn't even look that fierce."

"Ohhh, you don't know Prowler," Jazz chuckled. "Fierce doesn't even come close." Not that Prowl actually _had_ scared the Constructicons off. The gifts might have stopped after he warned them to slow down, but he hadn't told them to back off as such. Jazz hadn't spent a lot of time around them and Hook had been nothing but professional when he'd fixed his wrist, but he was pretty sure the interest was still there. It was part of why he'd been avoiding spending much time around them, in fact.

 _Okay, so that's another thing to talk about_ , he thought, adding to his mental checklist. _Their crush, and the rumors. And what I just confirmed._

Jazz joined Skybyte in looking back at Prowl. "He may not be big and tall and intimidatin', but you should see that mind in action!" He sighed dreamily. "It's amazin'. The mech's absolutely brilliant."

Now it was Skybyte's turn to chuckle. "And you are completely smitten with him. Never thought you'd be one to go totally helm over pedes over some mech," he teased. "Must be good in the berth too, right? If even a quarter of the stories about you are true."

"I am not complet- 'scuse me, what?" Jazz interrupted himself as the second part of what Skybyte said filtered through his processor. His helm whipped around to stare at the sharkformer. There were a _lot_ of rumors about what he got up to in his spare time, most not even remotely true. Just what was he implying? "What stories are we talkin' about now?"

"Oh come on. I knew it couldn't _all_ be true but you can't tell me you forgot about everything that went around during the war." Skybyte shifted to stare at Jazz as his expression remained curious. "No. There's no way you didn't know practically everyone talked about your skills and conquests. Well, more like who you had supposedly been a conquest for, at least on my side. The merged gestalt team was obviously a lie, given your size, but a triple-changer coulda been possible."

 _Well! I sure missed_ that _one!_ There were too many things wrong with the idea for Jazz to formulate a response. His thoughts felt like they were ricocheting around inside his helm, spinning from stunned through amused to land on horrified. He tried desperately to delete the images that sprang up at the words 'merged gestalt team' - images of Devastator with Prowl's chevron.

It wasn't until he bumped into the stool behind him that he realized he'd taken an involuntary step backward. He reached back to steady it and himself, force-resetting his visor as he tried to banish the memory of fighting against the giant combiner along with the incongruous and morbid curiosity asking _how would that even work?_

"Oooookay," he said finally, his voice crackling before he reset his vocalizer as well. "I knew mechs talked but I never went after the details, know what I'm sayin'? That's crazy!”

For a second he considered signalling he wanted _out_ of this discussion. A few orn after they had worked out their verbal code together, Prowl had suggested that Jazz share the musical key with some of his close friends as a kind of conversational safe-word. With his processor calmer than when they had come up with their system, Jazz had agreed. Skybyte was one of the first he had brought into his expanded support network, and he had been extremely flattered that Jazz trusted him with it. Jazz knew he would respect it if he used it now...but he wasn’t quite there yet. Besides, he had a question he wanted an answer to first. “Y'all don't really think I've done something like _that_ , do you?"

"Like I said, I don't believe some of the real crazy ones but I can only speak fer myself. Not all the stories were pretty so I hope some weren't true but hey, if yer into something then go for it.”

Perhaps sensing Jazz’s discomfort without needing to be told, Skybyte didn’t say anything more on the subject before switching back to talking about Prowl. “I am a bit surprised ya went fer that one though. He don't seem like the type to be anything but a dull frag, but I also don't know the mech at all."

"That's for me to know and you to never find out," Jazz said, giving his friend a brief look of gratitude. "Same goes for the rest of it. I ain't confirmin' nothin'." He pasted a smirk on his face that emphasized that he wasn't denying anything either though. For all that he didn't want to hear the more disturbing stories that mechs came up with about his amorous adventures, he'd traded on the reputation it gave him in the past and trying to fight it down would be effort he wasn't interested in expending. Right now he just wanted a drink - a strong one.

As if on cue, the mech behind the bar returned just then. He placed two cubes on the counter with a wink, clearly having heard at least the tail end of their conversation. Jazz fought the urge to groan. "Changed my mind, gimme somethin' stronger. I'm gonna need it."

"You're a horrible friend," Skybyte commented but then smirked at him. "Guess I'll let you go back to yer lover now," he said, placing just slightly more emphasis on the term before pushing away from the bar. "Still got a couple more sets before my shift's done."

"Knock 'em out!" Jazz called as he walked away, friendly despite the glare leveled back at him for the comment. He took the shot the bartender set in front of him and downed it in one burning gulp before picking up his cube. "Thanks, mech. For _not_ listening," he said. Then, after leaving a rather substantial tip, he grabbed the second cube and started making his way back over to Prowl.

He tried to think of what to say as he wove through the crowd. The bar wasn't exactly the best place for a serious conversation, but there wasn't time for them to leave and come back...not to mention that Skybyte and who knew how many others would make assumptions if they snuck off to one of the back rooms. 

Reaching their table without coming up with anything, he decided to take the easy route and let Prowl speak first.

"Welcome back," Prowl said as Jazz took his seat. "Is everything all right? I noticed you speaking with someone but that was still an unusually long wait."

"Yeah, Skybyte kinda cornered me about somethin'." Jazz sighed and slid Prowl's cube across to him. "I, ah, hope you aren't going to be too upset at me for this, but..." he trailed off and switched to comms. Even leaning in to talk very quietly didn't feel private enough, given the circumstances. ::I told him we were dating. He sort of already knew though - he talked about some rumors and asked how long we'd been together.::

"Oh."

Prowl was so surprised his first response was vocal, accompanied by a tensing of his core frame and a single slow flick of the sensor panels on his back. His voice over the comm line was, thankfully, more steady and assured. ::I see. I had hoped we wouldn't reach this point for longer than this but I suppose it can't be helped.:: He wanted to reach out and take Jazz's hand but kept himself restrained to simply expanding his EM field to brush against the other's in silent comfort and approval. 

Some of Jazz's tension melted away under the electromagnetic caress though he still reached back with his own field almost too quickly, the edges prickling before smoothing out. "Sorry," he apologized, both for the discomfort and for the situation. ::I'm glad you're not upset - I really wish I'd been able to ask you about it first, but he would have taken it as confirmation anyway if he'd caught me stalling or talking to you over comms. Turns out a group of enforcers was in here a couple of times talking about us, and Skybyte and some of the other patrons overheard them.::

Apparently it had been wrong to assume their audience wouldn’t say anything to preserve the secrecy of the track, though as soon as he had the thought Prowl’s processor supplied that they could have easily talked about the two of them without ever mentioning where they saw them. Dismissing the concern for later, he focused on Jazz. ::What’s done is done. I do trust your choices and I appreciate being directly informed soon after they are made.:: The smile he gave Jazz was innocent enough, should anyone be looking their way. ::That would be an important discussion for us to have, I suppose. Especially if we are the center of rumors already.::

Jazz reached out to nudge Prowl's cube at him again to remind him it was there. "Yeah, we should probably talk about that soon since there's no avoidin' it now," he said out loud, not wanting to look odd sitting there in silence. ::I dunno how much of the rumor mill you kept up with during the war, but some of ‘em are probably going to start cropping up again too. Just as another FYI,:: he warned Prowl. Bringing that up nearly broke the quarantine he'd placed his own thoughts on the matter under, and his vents gave a quiet hiccup as he worked to lock them down again.

"It would seem so. Do you think we have enough time for that discussion now, or should we plan for it later?" Prowl kept the vocal conversation innocent and lacking in information while their primary focus remained on the silent communication. ::I was never privy to much of the gossip under an informal but mutual agreement because what I heard might influence my choices and punishments or otherwise hinder my role as a disciplinary officer. Should I be concerned over what absurd tales might be circulating about us presently?::

"I'm not sure? I've only got till the end of the joor." It might wind up being a fairly quick discussion, but Jazz didn't want to have to cut it short if it wound up running longer. ::Some of those rumors might impact how we want to go about presenting ourselves,:: he pointed out, ::unless the kind of speculations that'll get tossed around if we disappear backstage to talk now won't bother you.:: 

Prowl almost laughed. Almost. It would be a big tell that their public conversation was not the only one occurring however, so he refrained. "Let's leave this conversation for later then," he said instead, unknowingly mirroring Jazz's thoughts. "Just in case we do require more time."

"Deal. When will you have time?" Jazz asked. "Did you want to make it sooner than game night?" Their next planned evening together was three orns away; not a terribly long time, but Jazz wasn't sure about waiting until then. His personal preference, if they weren't already at the bar, would have been to call off so they could keep talking now. He hid a sheepish look in his cube as he took a sip. ::Sooner might be better. Mechs might start assumin’ certain things about both of us based on the rumors about what I get up to in the berth.::

::I am morbidly curious what those rumors could be but I assume that is a topic best left for later as well,:: Prowl said while he considered his schedule, offering a faint smile. ::How do you feel about revealing our relationship status? Before I share my thoughts, would you be willing to share yours?::

::Unless you really want to test how well you can keep a straight face, yeah, better save that for later. It's already damaged my calm once,:: Jazz answered. At least the music would be a good distraction while he was performing and help him settle his thoughts. ::As far as revealin' our relationship, I know I was nervous about sayin' anything before, but now? I think I kind of like the idea. Even though Skybyte caught me off guard and I didn't know what you would think, it felt really good to say that we were together. And I like the thought of mechs knowin' you're off the market and to leave you alone.::

::I agree with most of your points without question, so that's a good sign though I do feel as though I should remind you that turning my status to taken will hardly change anything. You always were the more popular and sought after bot between us.:: The words were just fact. Prowl was neither bitter nor jealous, especially as he had no reason to be. He had caught Jazz's interest as unexpectedly as Jazz had caught his and unless that changed, no one would could come between them. ::I do like the thought of being able to call you mine however. And to know you might call me yours.::

Taking a drink, Prowl offered the options he had come up with for their conversation. "I will be free in the morning, if you wish to remain awake and visit then. Otherwise, I can return to the station when we're done here and find someone willing to trade shifts."

"It'd be easier for me to stay up and nap after," Jazz offered. That way Prowl wouldn't have to rearrange his schedule, and Jazz knew he would sleep better after talking things through. "Should I just stop by in the morning?" he asked, grinning over his cube. ::Maybe you think it won't change anything, but it makes a difference to me. I don't want anyone gettin' any ideas, no matter how unlikely you think it is. They don't know what they're missing, and I want to be able to tell 'em off if they try to wise up!::

Prowl found Jazz’s vehemence a little embarrassing but also flattering, yet he had no response for it. Barring the embarrassed flick his sensorpanels gave. "Or immediately after work, if you prefer." That would mean Jazz would be arriving at an odd hour and that might instigate additional talk, but it would also serve to hasten their discussion, which was obviously important to him. "Be sure to message me before you arrive so I know to be online."

"As long as it's not too early for you," Jazz said, though he nodded as he spoke. "I'll make sure to call ahead." He tapped his fingers against the table. ::The thought of callin' you mine definitely sounds real good to me,:: he admitted. ::And you callin' me yours might make some mechs back off of me. I can think of five in particular right off the bat... we are going to have to tell _them_ , you know.::

"I recharge practically twice as much as I used to. I can handle being woken early once," Prowl responded teasingly, though what Jazz had said in their private conversation caused him to pause. ::I didn't know they were still causing you problems,:: he commented. ::You could have said something sooner.::

::No, it’s not like they’ve done anything!:: Jazz began, not wanting to cause trouble between Prowl and his team. ::They really did listen when you told them to slow down! It's just that, well...I'm willing to get to know them better and work towards being friends with them because they're part of your life, but _you're_ the one I want to be with. Not them. And it isn't fair to let them think they've still got a chance if they don't.:: He sighed, not relishing his next thought. ::Not that they might not get mad about it anyway.::

::I doubt they will be mad, and certainly not at you,:: Prowl reassured him. ::They might be upset that I'm not sharing but you do get to make your own choices.::

::It's probably just old habits makin' me edgy at the prospect of a confrontation with them. The easiest fight to win is the one you avoid, but there's no gettin' around this one much longer. Hopefully you're right and it won't even be a problem.::

::For what it's worth, I would stand beside you if a fight were to occur. That leaves only five large mechs to handle, rather than the potential of facing a combiner.::

Jazz's mind blanked momentarily at the turn of phrase. Prowl had said facing, not _'facing_ , but once heard he could not un-hear it. He hung his helm and laughed, for all appearances at Prowl's comment about his sleeping habits. Hopefully Prowl wouldn't think he was laughing at him, but he couldn't help it. It was either laugh, cry, or run screaming, and only one of those three was acceptable under the circumstances. Even if there was a touch of hysteria creeping into it.

"I suppose the pot should know better'n to call the kettle black," he said when he got his giggles to stop enough to speak clearly, referencing the fact that he himself had often gone without sufficient recharge, even though Prowl was much more infamous for it. ::And this would be why we shouldn’t talk about this here - I am not mature enough to have this conversation in public! What a disgrace.:: 

::Do I even want to know what I said that actually broke your composure?:: As he asked, Prowl pushed comfort out through his field to counter the underlying chase to Jazz's concern and reached out a hand. It might only be a slight indication, but it was still a sign to anyone watching. Assuming Jazz accepted it. But it was worth it.

::Probably not, but I'll tell you anyway if you really want to know.:: Jazz reached over to take Prowl's hand, deciding that if Prowl didn't mind anyone seeing, neither did he. Mechs would speculate with or without any 'evidence' to back up their gossip anyway, and the contact helped him settle again and avoid making an even bigger scene than a little hand holding would. ::Your call.::

::Unless it is immediately vital, which it does not seem to be, I am certain it can wait until we talk later. Will you still be willing to share at that point?:: Prowl gave Jazz's hand a gentle squeeze. It was a slightly less discreet way of showing support but if they were coming out then Prowl was willing to take advantage of the perks of such visibility.

::Absolutely, since now I'm curious to see your reaction.:: Jazz left his hand in Prowl's as he took another drink. This felt right. It seemed kind of silly now to have been so concerned about hiding it before, though it had been important at the time.

"I'm gonna have to go soon," he said regretfully a moment later. "I've got set up to do before I start. You staying to finish that and listen for a bit, or were you heading straight back to recharge?"

"I was planning to remain for a while, yes," Prowl answered easily. It was strange just how nice something as simple as holding hands could be. It was a wonderful feeling. "Contrary to what you may believe, I do enjoy listening to some music and what I have heard of yours so far falls into that category."

"Really?" The compliment sent a warm tingle through Jazz's systems just as much as the minimal contact did. "That makes me really happy to hear." He knew the smile on his face probably looked ridiculous, but he didn't bother trying to restrain it. "Did you want to make a specific request? I can work it into the beginning of the set," he offered.

"Oh no," Prowl answered him. "I wouldn't want to upset the balance if you did already plan what you intended to play. Besides, I don't know enough songs to be able to request anything."

"I'll give you the second, for now - at least until I teach you some!" Jazz laughed. "But trust me. A custom arrangement for you is no trouble at all." 

He stood from the table, still holding on to Prowl's hand. "I'll see what I can come up with," he promised. Raising his cube in salute, he drained the rest and set it back down at his place, conspicuously indicating the now empty seat across from Prowl was still 'taken'. "See you later."

His fingers slipped through Prowl's as he backed away, taking several steps before turning and making his way backstage. He saw Skybyte glance down to catch his optic as he passed the stage and raised his finger to his lips, pantomiming silence in the face of the sharkformer's broad grin before disappearing through the door.

Prowl didn't say much before Jazz left, just a regretful, "and you as well." Then he settled in so he could enjoy Jazz's performance when it finally began.

There wasn't a lot of time to prepare, but Jazz made the most of it. By the time he finished unpacking and tuning his bass, he knew what he wanted to do. When he took the stage, the first notes that floated out over the room were the opening chord of the lead character's theme from one of the movies he and Prowl had watched together. Several variants of it played throughout the film, changing as the mood dictated, and he used that flexibility to start with the simple version, made a short detour into the softer, more thoughtful arrangement that played in the quiet moments of the story, and then segued into the energetic remix from the climax to transition into his planned set for the night.

He'd chosen it more because he knew Prowl would recognize it than because he'd expressed much of a like for it. What he’d said at the time was that he noticed it was the same piece being reused in multiple places. That was a subtlety not everyone would have picked up on, especially not someone who didn't normally pay much attention to music. Jazz didn't watch Prowl the entire time he was playing, but if his optics remained fixed on a certain table more often than not while his visor gave the illusion of connecting with the rest of the crowd, well. No one would know.

Prowl was surprised by the choice of song, but not the fact that Jazz had picked one for him or that he specifically knew it. He did have to cut the thought thread that began questioning what other specific meanings Jazz might have chosen the song for, but after that he was able to freely enjoy the music. And the subtle show that went with it. Though he couldn't prove it, the Praxian was certain he caught Jazz looking at him a few times and thus flicked and fluttered his wings in displays of appreciation and affection. Gestures well within the bounds of what Jazz was slowly picking up. 

It was only a couple songs later when the call came in over Prowl's personal frequency. ::Boss,:: a familiar voice began without preamble, ::something's come up that we need to talk to you about.:: Hook sounded somewhat distracted; likely he was talking with the others at the same time. ::Are you still at the office?::

The comm came in the middle of a song and though he hadn't wanted to answer, Prowl knew it had to be important. Those who knew his personal frequency were limited. The Constructicon's message was unexpected however. ::What happened?:: he asked back. Even as he began speaking, he dropped his block on the gestalt link to check their condition and location. ::Is anyone injured?::

::No one's hurt,:: Hook said, confirming the impression Prowl got back along the link was that no one was physically injured. There was some kind of emotional turmoil going on though, manifesting predominantly as confusion for the moment. ::But Scavenger and Mixmaster heard something today we need to talk to you about. Can you meet us now?::

He was being vague on purpose, though it wasn't clear whether he was doing it to be cautious or to be difficult. There was an undercurrent of resentment beneath the confusion in the link, though it was minor and therefore hard to identify who was the source or what it was directed at. Fortunately their location was clear - all five Constructicons were currently at one of the work sites Prowl usually passed on his way home. Unspoken was their intent to meet him there.

Prowl glanced towards the stage before answering. Jazz was still mid-song and seemed to be actually looking somewhere else this time. He hadn't expected him to stay for the entire show anyway, Prowl was sure, but he did still feel bad. Prowl began composing a short message of apology even as he responded to Hook. ::I can be there in approximately seven klik. Is this that worrisome of a situation?::

::It isn't yet,:: Hook said, his presence in the link separating itself out long enough for Prowl to distinguish his exasperation. It seemed to be mostly for the more volatile members of the team...except for a measure of frustration that was aimed at Prowl. ::And I'd like to keep it that way.::

There was a beat of silence, then, ::We'll talk more when you get here:: With that the line closed, though the link remained open. There was a sense of satisfaction as Hook's individual presence melted back into the general group. Whatever was going on was important to them, but they were content to wait for Prowl to arrive to deal with it.

Once the call ended, Prowl also finished the last of his cube and reviewed his message for Jazz. He stood and, knowing the action would draw Jazz's attention, tilted his wings in silent apology as he started towards the exit. Prowl sent the message just before walking out the door, hoping it wouldn't disturb the other during his performance:

[I apologize. I was called away or I would have stayed longer. I did enjoy what I got to hear, and I can't wait to see you again.]

Then he transformed and drove off to meet his team.


	18. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prowl and his team have a very important spark-to-spark chat.

Prowl beat his seven klik estimate by an entire klik and a half. He had spent the short drive trying to come up with reasons the other five would be upset with him but still hadn't figured it out. There was no point in stalling though. It wasn't as if they couldn't tell he was there, so Prowl shifted forms and headed onto the lot.

The Constructicons were all gathered together at the back of the site. Long Haul and Bonecrusher had made impromptu chairs of stacked I-beams while the others stood. Hook and Mixmaster were standing in place calmly while Scavenger paced, idly nudging at bits of debris on the ground with the front of his foot. Their frame language was a bit tense but not aggressive, and Bonecrusher's expression, while serious, was still welcoming when he spotted Prowl.

"You got here fast," he said to him, alerting the others with his words.

"Good," Scavenger said, walking up to Prowl as the others turned to look at him. He stopped short of crowding him, his field definitely more inquisitive than angry. "You can explain, right?"

"Not if we don't explain what he's explaining first," Mixmaster said, coming over to join Scavenger before addressing Prowl. "We met up with some mechs earlier today on a supply run." _We_ in this case meant just the two of them, as Hook had indicated earlier in his call. "They told us an interesting story."

"We finished loading up what we needed and then asked about capacitors because Jazz wanted us to look into them," Scavenger continued, a sense of _See? We haven’t forgotten_ layering the words. "When we brought up Jazz’s name they all started going on about how happy he’s seemed lately, now that he’d started seeing someone."

"They said he was going out with _you_ ," Long Haul chimed in from where he was sitting. 

"Which we thought we might have heard about, if it were true," Hook added, crossing his arms. "But what they said sounded a lot more concrete than idle gossip."

"You can explain though, right?" Scavenger asked. "Right?"

That certainly had not been on the meager list of possible issues Prowl had come up with. He stalled a bit at being temporarily blindsided. Given what Jazz had just revealed at the bar, in hindsight it made perfect sense that the Constructicons would have heard the new rumors too. It seemed to be the topic on everyone's processor lately.

So much for talking to Jazz first before talking with the team. He felt a little bit put on the spot, much like Jazz must have felt with Skybyte. There was no way around it though - they were right. He did owe them an explanation.

"I took your advice," Prowl began, turning to look primarily at Hook. "Acknowledging my own feelings was an important first step. As it turned out, Jazz expressed interested in me as well when I shared how I felt, and we decided to give it a try. We wanted to move slowly however, to test out a potential relationship without any pressure from the outside. It was nice while that lasted."

Prowl’s doorwings twitched a couple times as he looked among the gathered Constructicons, nervousness slowly building on his side of the link. He didn’t bother trying to stifle it very much. "We haven't been together long, and we would have preferred to have more time to discuss when and how we intended to tell anyone. It was never going to be a permanent secret. We simply didn't want to prematurely announce something that might fall apart.” 

Even now that was a concern in Prowl’s processor. He still worried sometimes that they wouldn’t work out as a couple in the long run, despite the growing evidence to the contrary. Mostly that was because he still found it difficult to believe he could really have something he wanted so much without something going wrong - like it causing a problem now between him and his team.

"I am actually a little surprised none of you noticed a difference during the times we were together," he remarked. Had they really not suspected at all before now? 

Bonecrusher snorted, the sound echoing loudly around the lot. "As if we get to see either of you all that often, especially together."

"Besides, you just admitted you were trying not to be obvious about it until you were sure," Long Haul pointed out. "You were trying to act normal so we _wouldn’t_ notice."

"Guess you did a better job of that around us than with everyone else," Mixmaster complained, and _there_ , now it was clear to Prowl what the problem was. They weren't upset that he and Jazz had started dating, or even that it seemed to be going well for them. What was bothering them and causing the hurt feelings they were all being reluctant to admit to was that they hadn't heard it from Prowl himself first, _before_ anyone else had learned about it.

"You should have been more careful," Hook said critically. "The mechs Mixmaster and Scavenger talked to aren't the only ones spreading stories. Whether you meant to tell anyone yet or not, I don't think you have a choice now."

"So we had concluded," Prowl nodded. "The rumors were brought to our attention not even a joor ago, but Jazz had to work. We made plans to discuss the situation in the morning." He shifted his gaze between each of the Constructicons again. "We were both hoping it would remain unnoticed for longer, but I brought him to the enforcer track to race and we seem to have made an impression on some of the bots we encountered there. Enough of one for them to talk about us afterward." 

He flicked his wings again in worry and agitation. "I am sorry you found out the way you did. It really should have at least come from me, if not the both of us."

"Yes, it should have," Hook nodded, but it wasn’t said too harshly; it was just his way of accepting the apology. The others were all fairly noncommittal in their verbal acceptances as well, but the confusion and hurt began to evaporate from the link.

Prowl exvented a soft sigh of relief. "Our discussion this morning was to include finding a way to tell you,” he assured them. “Jazz was concerned that it would complicate his attempts at building a friendship between him and all of you, if knowing that he and I had become so close would put additional pressure on the situation.”

“It doesn't complicate things any more than they already were,” Hook replied. “Knowing will probably make things easier, actually. We won't wind up saying the wrong thing to him out of ignorance that way."

"Heh, yeah, just imagine how well it would have gone over if he thought we were prying," Scavenger laughed, nudging Mixmaster beside him, “instead of teasing to see how he felt about you.”

"No kidding," the other mech chuckled back. "It''s easier and safer knowing."

"Agreed," came the consensus.

"So," Long Haul said after a moment, curiosity rising to the fore from all of them. "What were you doing at the track that got everyone gossiping about you again?"

The 'again' gave Prowl pause but it was such a momentary stalling out that his thoughts barely hiccuped. "We were racing when the others showed up and let them have the track as we took a short break to rest and cool down. When we came back out, we tested the obstacle course before making a final mixed race out of it, that’s all."

Just to fill an extra gap in for Hook, he glanced his way to include another detail. "That last race was when he hurt his wrist." He didn’t know whether the others knew about that or not, but it wasn't a major secret even if it wasn’t already common knowledge, which was much more likely. 

"He would have been a fool to race with it like that if he'd done it beforehand," Hook huffed disapprovingly, gesturing around at the others and confirming Prowl’s unspoken question. "I told them you'd stopped by and that Jazz needed some repairs."

"He didn't say exactly what happened though."

"How did Jazz hurt himself?"

"Did the course equipment malfunction somehow?"

"If something went wrong we'll fix it!"

The questions all tumbled together one right after the other, accompanied through the link by a mix of concern for Jazz's well-being and the quality of their work. No one doubted Hook's ability to patch Jazz up or felt that they had done a shoddy job with the construction at the track, but they didn't want to think that Jazz or anyone else might have gotten injured as a result of something they had built. Anything that hadn't been designed with that purpose in mind, at least.

"No, no..." Prowl was quick to reassure them. "It was a midair miscalculation on his part due to hyper-competitiveness during our race. He thought he could cross a distance that was at the edge of his skill level and it resulted in a minor injury. Our race was nearly complete by that point and he didn't need to use his wrist again so he did not even have time to aggravate the injury. He is perfectly fine and it was no fault of yours, I promise."

Smug pride banished the earlier concern and the Constructicons all relaxed. "We did build it to stand up to heavy use," Bonecrusher said, lounging where he sat.

"Good thing, too." Long Haul leaned back against the pile of girders as well, toying with a scrap piece of rebar. "You probably gave it as good a workout as it gave you." He pointed at Prowl with the broken bit of metal. "Which you should do more often - you spend too much time behind that desk of yours."

"Yeah," Scavenger lamented. "It's not good for you."

"No, it isn't." Hook gave Prowl an assessing look. "Maybe I should tell Jazz he needs to start looking in on you and getting you out more often. Something slightly less strenuous, perhaps."

"Like what?"

"They don't need your help planning dates, Scavenger," Bonecrusher cut in before Hook could respond.

"Says who?" Scavenger rounded on his teammate, who stood with a growl.

"Says me, that's who!"

"But what if we have a good idea?" Mixmaster asked, coming to Scavenger's defense.

"Your ideas would just fuel more rumors," Long Haul said, getting to his feet as well. "They don't need that kind of help!"

"All right, that's quite enough," Prowl interjected, trying to get them to stop. His words fell on deaf audials, however. After a few more vocal attempts to cut them off, Prowl tried pushing the concept out through their link instead. His mental 'whistle' sliced through the arguing and had all five mechs finally turning to listen to what he had to say. Much better.

"He actually does a fine job of pulling me away from work already, without the need to do so literally,” he said now that he had their attention, trying to defuse the situation before a physical fight could break out. “We see one another approximately every other orn."

"Wow, that's great!" Mixmaster said, backing down. "Guess you really don't need help then, do you?"

"No wonder mechs are talking," Long Haul chuckled, also relenting, "if you're together that much."

"Proximity was the basis for a lot of the old rumors too," Hook commented. "If you're being seen together often, especially places you never go to with company like the track or your apartment, I’m only surprised that it took this long to start hearing about it."

"We do alternate where we meet and he's only stopped in to see me at work a couple times,” Prowl protested. “Apparently that was enough..." His wings sank marginally. He wanted to exvent a deep sigh but decided against it, choosing to speak again instead. "Although, with the basis of the old rumors, I suppose that even a slight suggestion of anything now would bring our status to the foreground."

"There were certainly plenty on our side," Long Haul told Prowl in a backhanded attempt at comfort. "Even though they weren't really substantiated, as that kind of stuff went."

"Yeah, the best 'evidence' anyone really had that you were together was there was no proof that you _weren't_. That, and you spent so much time together," Bonecrusher added. "Jazz and Blaster now, those rumors had a little more going for them."

"Ohhh yeah," Scavenger remembered excitedly. "Jazz and Blaster was really popular! A lot of mechs had money on the two of them being together. Or on Jazz being with Bumblebee, or Sideswipe, or Bumblebee AND Sideswipe, or Soundwave-" he broke off at the look that last earned him from the circle. "What? I didn't start that one! I'm just repeating what I heard other mechs saying!"

"Which is exactly how rumors spread in the first place," Hook pointed out. "Though sometimes I wonder if Soundwave started that one himself..." 

There was a faint flicker of unease around the group at that thought, and Mixmaster quickly tried to divert the conversation. "What about the Autobots? Did they have any rumors about you too?

"None that I knew anything about," Prowl began misleadingly before clarifying with, "but I was not privy to any gossip. I did hear some things, through a rare few sources, but such things typically pertained to my role dispersing discipline. Dating theories very rarely qualified."

"That's too bad," Scavenger said, right as Bonecrusher said, "That's convenient."

Mixmaster laughed at both of them. "I guess that makes sense," was his comment. "Though I suppose it means we'll have to ask Jazz to see if he heard any good ones if we want to know about them."

"Unless he doesn't want to talk about it," Hook reminded them.

"Right," Mixmaster agreed reluctantly, clearly hoping that wouldn't be the case.

"Can we ask him?" Long Haul asked Prowl.

"You do not need my permission," Prowl pointed out. "However, that is not a meaningful enough topic to seek him out in order to ask. If it comes to mind while you are already discussing other things with him then feel free to ask but do not press the issue if he responds poorly."

"Just wondered if you'd know whether or not he'd be open to the topic if it came up," Long Haul said, though it was clear that permission was exactly what he had taken Prowl's words as and he, Scavenger and Mixmaster were obviously planning to make sure the topic did come up at the next available opportunity.

"If he has a problem with it, no one will pursue it," Hook both assured Prowl and impressed on the others warningly, before abruptly changing the topic. "You said you didn't want to announce you were in a relationship in case it fell apart. Do you think it's going to?" he asked bluntly.

That caught the attention of the rest enough for them to put aside their burgeoning attempts at plotting for the moment.

"We know you don't want it to fall apart," Scavenger said after a moment when Prowl didn’t say anything. "You really like him. You want to stay with him."

"Can you blame him?"

"Not me."

Long Haul and Bonecrusher exchanged a look. "You're spending a lot of time with him," Bonecrusher said with just a hint of jealousy, though whether it was because Prowl was taking time with Jazz away from them or Jazz was taking up all of Prowl’s time wasn't completely clear. It was possible it was both. "Do you enjoy being together?"

"Yeah, are you happy with him?" Long Haul asked. "We like Jazz, but you're the boss." He didn't expand on the statement, but support from all of them that Prowl's feelings were important and that they wouldn't stand for Jazz upsetting him followed strong on his words.

"I have liked him for a long time," Prowl admitted finally, confirming what Scavenger had said. "I never thought there was any chance we could be together though. Apparently he had assumed the same and was just as nervous as I was. Our first date was incredibly awkward, to the point where we might not have made it simply because the situation was so stressful. Once we resolved to treat dates no differently than any other time we spent together, however, things went much easier.

"Sharing our status felt like it would only add unnecessary stress into something that was already difficult to adjust to," Prowl explained. "We might fit together on our own but under the pressure of others' attention and expectations cracks might appear. We didn't want to worry about that until we couldn't avoid others knowing, hoping we would have a firmer foundation by that point. Hence, our present situation."

"Why don't you just ignore what others say?" Scavenger asked, the concept a seemingly simple one to him. "Who cares what they see or think about you?"

"It's only pressure if you let it be," Bonecrusher said with a shrug, as used to letting the criticisms of others roll off him as Scavenger. "So don't let it."

"And don't let _us_ pressure you," Mixmaster added quickly.

"Right, just tell us to back off and we will." They would _try,_ anyway, was the sense that accompanied Long Haul's promise. Really try.

"Or tell us who isn't backing off, and we'll make 'em," Scavenger said, the notion of breaking a few stubborn helms appealing to several members of the team besides just him.

"That won't be necessary," Prowl spoke up in an attempt to head that off before it could get out of hand. "We can take care of ourselves just fine. I simply meant that knowing so many others are watching in order to to see what happens and if we succeed or fail is more of a spotlight on the relationship than either of us wants."

"You can't help that you're high profile," Hook shrugged. It was true, especially during the war but even now as well. There was no escaping the fact that pretty much everyone knew who Prowl and Jazz were and that most would take at least a passing interest in what they were doing with their lives. "Officer rank comes hand in hand with celebrity status. It would be a problem no matter who either of you chose to pair up with." Which summarized it all rather neatly, really.

"Had I known that the attention would remain and that I would continue to have to deal with prying optics and gossip even after the war, then I would have never taken the title and merely continued working in the background." Prowl accompanied the sentiment with a sigh that was a groan in their link. "I have no interest in fame or notoriety. Particularly since everything is over now."

He had hung his helm as well but now looked back up and over at the rest of the team. He opened his mouth to speak again but paused, offering out along their link the sense that he wanted to speak but wasn't sure how to express himself quite yet. It was only a few moments later when he did verbalize anything. "Do any of you mind if I ask a question now? It might be quite personal."

The answer he got back over their connection was an immediate open willingness to talk, a feeling confirmed out loud by Hook a second later. "We don't mind. Go ahead and ask your question."

"Yeah, it's not like we've got secrets to keep from you," Mixmaster told him. "You're the boss."

"I don't need to know all your secrets," Prowl defended quickly. "I have no desire to intrude on anyone's individual privacy but this is a topic of interest to the group..." Finding himself to be on the verge of rambling, Prowl paused to collect and reorganize his thoughts. "What I mean to say is that this question pertains to something involving all of you. Is everyone willing to answer honestly?"

"Of course," Scavenger answered immediately.

"You want an honest answer, you got one," Bonecrusher promised.

Hook and Mixmaster, having already stated their willingness, simply nodded.

"We'll all answer your question," Long Haul said. "As soon as you tell us what it is, anyway. You seem kind of nervous to ask it."

"Are you afraid of what we'll think of you for the question?" Mixmaster asked.

"Or afraid of the answer?" Hook finished.

"I am concerned over the answer, for many reasons," Prowl admitted, letting them feel both in his mind and field that he was trying his best to be completely honest with them as well. "However, I am mostly concerned with how your answer will affect me to hear. Honestly, I am still unaccustomed to having others so closely entwined in my life and this situation as a whole is such a convoluted mess... Even if I did not already have a habit of shying away from emotionally charged situations, this would be a complicated question to ask."

Prowl exvented another soft sigh. "I suppose I should just come out with it, so... Exactly what is your desired end goal with Jazz?"

"Us?"

"With Jazz?"

"Heh, well that about sums it up right there," Bonecrusher laughed. "Us with Jazz."

"I think he means _how_ we want to be with him," Long Haul said, glaring briefly at his teammate. "How do we want to be with Jazz."

"Is that what you meant, boss?" Scavenger asked Prowl.

"Essentially," Prowl agreed after a moment. "What sort of relationship do you hope to have with him?" And then another question snuck out before he even realized he was thinking it. "Or with me?"

A series of glances was exchanged over Prowl's helm, though all five Constructicons sent him assurances that they weren't trying to dodge the question. They were simply trying to work out how to answer it.

"We want to be friends with him," Long Haul finally spoke first. "To spend time with him without him being on edge."

"Yeah, so we can hang out and talk and just chill," Bonecrusher added. “Maybe work on stuff together, if he’s interested.”

Scavenger was nodding his agreement as well. "Without you needing to be there - no offense! We just mean, we’d like if he didn’t need you to relax with us."

"And after that, maybe..."

"We'll worry about after, _after,_ " Hook told Mixmaster before turning to Prowl. "We promised we'd back off, and we meant it. Knowing that a lot of what was prompting us to send him those gifts came from you made it easier to filter out."

"Especially once you started actually seeing him yourself. I bet we could pinpoint when you first got together from when the pressure let up," Long Haul said with a bit of a teasing smile.

"But I still like Jazz," Scavenger piped up.

"Me too."

"So do I."

"He's so shiny and pretty..."

"And graceful!"

"And don't forget that voice!'

There was a collective sigh across the bond. No mistaking it, there was definitely still strong admiration, affection, and even attraction for Jazz. The heavier lust that had been there before was largely curbed now, however, though it wasn’t entirely gone.

"We won't go any further than he wants to go," Hook promised, almost in reaction to Prowl noticing that thread. "His friendship is more important than having anything physical."

"Exactly," the others all confirmed. "Just like it is with you!"

Prowl took a moment to digest all of that before offering an accepting flick of his sensorwings. Words took longer to form but they followed soon enough after. "I am glad to hear that and equally sorry to have pushed my feelings onto all of you. Had I thought it was a possibility, then I would have tried to prevent it sooner. I suppose I should be grateful however. Without your assistance then he and I might never have spoken again." The thought hurt as he said it but that was no reason to avoid the truth.

"Thank you. Without the five of you, my present life would be far less enjoyable. And I don't mean that solely due to Jazz either."

"Aww, you do like us!" Scavenger said happily.

"Well, you've certainly made our lives better," Long Haul told him. "We wouldn't be doing nearly so well without you."

"When we say we don't want anyone else as our boss, we mean it." The slightest hint of softness graced Hook's normally stern expression, echoed by the warm acceptance and gratitude flowing freely between them all in the place where awkward words weren't necessary - their way of saying you're welcome and thank you in one fell swoop.

But there was a bubble of curiosity beneath it all, working its way up through someone's processor. Mixmaster was the one to finally say something about it. "What kind of relationship do _you_ want with _us?_ " he asked, turning Prowl's question back on him.

Prowl froze for a moment at that. Mentally berating himself, he had an admission to make. "I honestly have not given it much thought. There was so much to get done at first, immediately after the war, and then I just didn't even know where to begin. This situation is completely new to me... Not that I expect it's any simpler for any of you but at least you have previous experience as a gestalt. Even that is new to me and I didn't have many options to find information. Although, it didn't help that I was leery of the five of you."

He paused for a moment to decide how best to tackle the remainder of his thought but quickly continued. "I was fine in public in the post-war mess with no other backup because I knew none of you would let anything happen to me. Once I was mostly alone in my helm once again though, then I began to have doubts. Who knew what would happen if I tried to speak with any or all of you? We had been enemies at one time after all, for a very long time at that, and I had no idea what I might end up walking in on or been drawn into before I could object or perhaps even against my objections." The words came out fairly neutral but through the link Prowl did offer apology and embarrassment over his one time poor opinion of his teammates.

"We sort of figured that out," Long Haul told him, not as a criticism. "You're right that we were already used to each other and you were not. That's why we decided to let you have your space and hoped that, in time, you would become more comfortable with us."

"Yeah, because we really like and respect you. What we saw when we combined - you're incredible!" The admiration that accompanied Scavenger's statement was on par with what they had shown for Jazz and then some.

"We wanted you to like us too," Mixmaster said simply, though there was a strength of emotion in the link that went a little beyond just _like_. None of them was putting a word to it, but it felt like... belonging. It felt like home.

All of them had moved in closer, obviously trying not to crowd but hoping that Prowl would accept them being there. "We have a unique bond," Hook explained. "Being gestalt for us means sharing a lot of things even when we aren't combined, and when we need something we look to each other, not outsiders."

"It's safer that way, less complicated," Bonecrusher said. "For everyone."

"I can understand that feeling at least," the Praxian replied. "I have never been well inclined to asking others for anything that I could provide for myself."

The strangest part of having them so close wasn't that they were now there; it was the sudden realization that they _hadn't_ been before. A small part of Prowl’s mind latched onto their presence and deemed it right and important. He dedicated a processor thread to analyzing that sensation without bothering to hide his actions or feelings.

In fact, Prowl even physically reached out to the two closest mechs. "I am trying to understand and accept this change. It is strange to know someone might always be in my helm and that I have support no matter what happens, but I am learning. Albeit slowly..."

"We're glad you're trying," Long Haul said, reaching back with a solid, reassuring hand. "Even if it's slowly."

"Anyway, it's not _really_ slow if it's your pace," Mixmaster insisted as he reached back too. "You've got a lot of other things you're doing, after all."

"You can always ask us, if you have questions," Scavenger offered. "We're here for you if you need us."

"For anything."

"Not just for construction projects."

" _Anything._ "

That last came with a slew of clarifications over the bond. They projected welcome, invitation even, of Prowl reaching out to them about about literally anything: small questions and favors, large projects or problems; material, emotional, or physical. And physical didn't just mean for things like injuries... though there was a clear sense that there was no expectation or pressure being placed on Prowl in that regard.

Prowl acknowledged and shared his understanding and acceptance of each offered subject in turn but the last made him pause in surprise. He stopped to analyze it, turning the idea over in his mind. Absently he also commented, "So that _is_ something that happens among you..."

The Constructicons all kind of looked to each other briefly before letting Hook take over the conversation, as they often did with serious subjects. "It's not something the gestalt bond demands, though the link certainly enhances it as long as you aren't blocking," he explained, speaking very straightforwardly. There was no embarrassment from any of them about the topic, only nervousness about how Prowl might react. "We pretty much keep to ourselves as far as partners go for the same reason we keep everything else among the team: it's less complicated that way."

"I see..." And in many ways Prowl really did. It wasn't too far different from having a bondmate or trine, just with more than one or two other mechs. It was not something he had anticipated however, and he wasn't sure yet how to feel about it.

Prowl allowed the others to continue watching his thoughts on the matter as he considered his wording. "I do appreciate the offer but I do not anticipate that I will take you up on it often, if ever. It's not a lack of interest in all of you, rather a lack of interest or desire in general. I hope that is not a problem..."

"Not a problem at all. If you never want to, that's fine," Hook said, clearly meaning it despite the slight hint of regret coming from somewhere among the group. "Just like it's fine to change your mind."

"But you don't have to."

"And don't feel like we think you should."

"We just like spending time with you."

"Yeah - however that time is spent."

And there it was, that same plain, comfortable acceptance. They'd made their position clear, but were perfectly willing to let Prowl make the final call. They trusted him to make the right decision and would abide by it.

"Understood," Prowl stated and he was not lying. While he might not have all the nuances down yet, not by a long shot, he knew enough to completely understand the subtle messages the rest of the team was projecting.

He stopped to think for a moment, checking his chronometer in the process. "Speaking of time, I should head home. I do have a guest arriving early and I should attempt to get some recharge before then. Unless there was anything else we needed to talk about?"

The Constructicons could all sense his unspoken need for some space to think through everything they had just discussed. "Don't let us keep you then," was all Hook said. "We've got work in the morning that we need to be rested for as well. Thanks for coming on such short notice and straightening things out quickly." There was definite curiosity over who his guest might be, and certain suspicions given the earlier part of conversation, but none of them tried to pressure or pry a name out of Prowl even over the bond.

"Of course." Prowl gave both a nod and incline of his doorwings. "It is always best to resolve situations before they can develop into something worse. Also, for what it's worth… we would have visited you all immediately after we decided how to reveal ourselves,” he said, referencing the rumors they had reached out to him about in the first place. “The five of you are the closest I have to friends besides Jazz, and far more than mere friends. Jazz knows and respects that, and he acknowledged you would be first to know as soon as we agreed to share with anyone."

Touched as they were by the sentiment, the Constructicons also hadn't much to say in response and all six mechs did need to recharge. The site was soon vacated as they all headed home; the group of five to prepare for the next orn, and Prowl to try and rest before having what might be the most difficult discussion of his relationship with Jazz yet.


	19. Time to Face the Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Prowl and Jazz for a chapter and it's time for that big discussion they've been putting off.

[Hey Prowler - thanks for your message earlier, hope everything's all right. I'm off the clock and headin' your way. Let me know if it's not still okay for me to stop by.]

Jazz sent a quick message as he left the bar, slipping away carefully before Skybyte could try to grab him again. Dodging the mech would probably cause him trouble later, but with any luck he'd be able to smooth it over with an apology and a little bit of the gossip he so clearly wanted. Once he knew what he and Prowl were both comfortable sharing.

He got a confirmation from Prowl that he should still come over shortly after he started driving. Quietly so as not to disturb or attract the attention of any of Prowl's neighbors, Jazz cut around through the alleys when he got to the building, pinging him to let him know he was at the door. Anyone who looked would be able to see him standing on the step while he waited for Prowl to let him in, but given how late it was there was no one watching.

Jazz was only there about a klik before the door opened. Prowl stood on the other side with a smile and sedate enthusiasm. "Jazz. Welcome. Come on in." At the last, he ducked aside so there was space for the other to enter.

On the table sat two cubes of standard energon, set out just moments ago. "I didn't know whether you had refueled yet or not," Prowl explained. "This could be a long conversation however, as we have a lot to discuss."

"I hadn't," Jazz confirmed, smiling gratefully at the consideration. The energon was very welcome, but he didn't go immediately to the table. Prowl was right - they did have a lot to discuss. "Didn't want to give Skybyte the chance to catch me and ask more questions I couldn’t answer before we talked, or anyone else if he didn't listen and opened his big mouth." Not that Jazz really expected he would have done so.

He was curious about something though, and decided to get that out of the way first before diving into the matter at hand. "You said you got called away in your message. Everything okay?"

Prowl vented a sigh. "The rumors are more widespread than we thought," he replied cryptically before explaining. "My team messaged me. They were upset and needed to talk to me about something. I thought one of them might be hurt, but no. They had heard about us and, after I confirmed some of it, were upset I hadn't told them myself. That they had to hear through gossip."

"Yikes." Jazz winced. "Talk about news spreading fast." He had assumed it was work related when he'd heard Prowl's message; he hadn't expected the Constructicons. From the look of things, neither had Prowl. "So, uh, how mad are they?" he asked, reminding himself that Prowl was here now and appeared to be mostly calm, so it couldn't have gone too badly.

"They were mainly upset and insulted that I hadn't told them personally and they had to find out through gossip," Prowl explained. "Once I explained that we hadn't told anyone yet and had been waiting to do so then they were more understanding. They know I have no love for being the center of attention so they at least understood the desire to avoid rumors as long as possible."

"Well that's good then, yeah? They were just upset you hadn't told them?" Jazz said, still a bit nervous to hope. "Does that mean they don't mind us being together?" Let anyone else say whatever they wanted; it wouldn't be pleasant to deal with necessarily, but it would be manageable. If the Constructicons were going to have a problem with them, on the other hand, it really would be a mess.

"They don't seem to mind," Prowl replied. "They were more than willing to enforce our privacy if I desired, although I did talk them down from that." He couldn't help a slight chuckle escaping. "They would even stand against you if we ended up not working out."

Jazz chuckled too, actually finding that endearing rather than threatening. "You know, I think I like that they care about you so much. You deserve it," he said fondly. "Though I'd just as soon not have to fight them if we didn't work out. But for the record, the only way I see that happening right now is if you decided it was something _you_ didn't want." He couldn't help and didn't try to hide the sadness he felt at that thought before continuing. "I'd just ask you to be honest with me and them in that case so it doesn't come to that."

"If it were to end purely by my choice, which I do not foresee happening," Prowl clarified to reassure Jazz, "then I would make sure to inform all six of you properly. As it is however, I can think of no reason I might want to end this, and I can only hope that you feel the same." He offered honesty and hopefulness in his field with an undercurrent of contentment that was tinged with happiness. Then Prowl switched the topic back where it began.

"If that is all there is to say on that matter, then we should probably discuss how much we want to tell and to whom."

"Probably," Jazz agreed. "But I got something I want to do first." He stepped up to Prowl and held out his arms, returning his contented happiness with his own field. "Been wanting to since you took my hand at the bar."

Prowl didn't hesitate to return the hug. He had been considering giving him one as well but had felt unsure; since the offering was there, however, he wouldn't refuse. "Sometimes I wonder how we ever managed to not do this sooner." He might have meant the hug or he might have meant their relationship. It was true either way.

Jazz wrapped his arms carefully around Prowl, circling low around his waist to avoid his doorwings and let his helm rest against his chassis. He hummed contentedly at the warmth and closeness. "Me too," he said softly, unwilling to move away for a long moment.

Eventually though he did pull back enough to look up at Prowl again. "So. About figurin' out what to tell everyone." He quirked a somewhat rueful smile. "I'm guessin' you want to go about trying to minimize the gossip?"

"Ideally, yes." Besides a single nod, Prowl also flicked his wings in confirmation. "However, I am realistic enough to realize that sharing nothing will make the stories worse so the trick will be striking a perfect balance. You do know this game better than I, so I will trust your judgement."

Then he switched gears briefly to ask a marginally related question. "Would you like to sit down? I do suggest the couch if we want to stay close."

"Sitting's a thought." Jazz looked over at the cubes on the table. "Do you mind if we bring those over to the couch? I could definitely use it." They could refuel while they continued their conversation. He let go of Prowl to walk over to pick one of them up, waiting to hear whether Prowl objected. 

At the simple "that's fine," he got in reply, Jazz turned back to his other thoughts. "You're right about needing to strike a balance between too much and too little, and it's a fine line to walk. It comes down to giving just enough detail that they feel they got something worthwhile." He sighed, the sound somewhat frustrated. "I'm sure it's no surprise to you that the details most mechs'll chase after have to do with 'facing. That's what Skybyte was after me about."

"So exactly the sort of thing we haven't started doing yet," Prowl summarized. He had just seated himself upon the couch, his own tone mildly exasperated. "Wonderful... Is there any way to avoid that altogether or will we have to come up with a response for those questions?"

"Well...here's where we probably oughta talk about some of the rumors already going around - not so much of us as a couple, but us as individuals." Jazz took his cube over to the couch and joined Prowl, settling next to him. "Fact of the matter is, your reputation's probably gonna keep most mechs from askin' you too many questions. They'll respect you if you tell them you don't want to discuss your personal life with them. I'm the reason this is complicated."

"Because, according to previous rumors, and the sheer number of said rumors, you don't care who you interface with nor how many know about it." Prowl moved closer but didn't make any effort to touch Jazz again just yet. "Did I miss anything?"

"We could argue semantics, but basically yeah, that's it. That and how, ah, _experimental_ I supposedly am in the berth." Jazz looked at Prowl apologetically. "Even if mechs don't say anything to you directly, they'll assume things behind your back because you're associatin' with me."

He paused to consider his next words. "I'm also expectin' that once the talk of 'they're actually together!' dies down it'll to turn to 'how much longer can they last?'. Far as mechs think they know, short flings are my thing." Which wasn't true at all, either about his past and even less his hopes for their relationship now, but Jazz was worried the expectation would be more than Prowl wanted to deal with.

"As long as they don't question me about it, then I don't need to concern myself with those assumptions. As for the rest," and now Prowl did reach out and place a hand gently atop one of Jazz's. "I do know better than to believe when others may say you want to end everything. At worst, I have to ask you about something that sounds entirely too plausible, but I trust that you would keep me informed."

Jazz brightened again at the touch and the words. "You promise to ask and I promise to tell you the truth. Sounds fair to me." He shuffled a bit closer, mindful of their drinks. "And I'll do what I can to discourage that kind of speculatin' too. It'll take some time to really sink in, but I think eventually most mech's'll get the hint."

He tilted his helm to regard Prowl curiously. "When you say you don't need to concern yourself with what's bein' said, does that mean you don't want me to tell you when I hear things? Or tell you, just don't bother bein' specific? You did ask me about one earlier tonight at the bar," he reminded him. "Still want to know what it was?"

"If you think any speculation is worth hearing, then I'm willing to listen," Prowl replied with a smile. "It's just the general gossip coming from nearly anyone else that doesn't interest me." He vented softly then. "As for that instance, I will likely regret this, but do tell."

"Let it be known you were warned," Jazz said ominously. "Okay, so apparently one of the crazier rumors even _I_ didn't know about circulatin' during the war said I'd gone and gotten myself fragged by a combiner." He fixed Prowl with a very pointed look. "Which, given the parties interested in me _now_ , had one very _particular_ combiner springing to mind."

"I..." Prowl started then stopped as the countless curiosities to the concept unfolded before him. It took a klik, but he pulled his focus out of his thoughts long enough to ask perhaps the most pressing question. "Please tell me that only means a combiner team..."

"Oh no," Jazz shook his helm and pressed on. "Skybyte used the words 'merged gestalt team'. As in, the whole team, combined, at one time. So you can see why my processor might've started conjuring images of Devastator when you went and said something about facing a combiner just a couple of kliks later. Facing, 'facing. Get it?"

"Yeah, yeah... I get it." Prowl brought a hand up to his helm to rub just beneath his chevron. That answer absolutely did not help in the slightest. Especially as a few active processor threads decided to settle on where and how exactly those parts might exist in his team. Hoping for a distraction, he onlined his vocalizer to whatever was the first thing that would come out. Unfortunately...

"How would that even work? I'm fairly certain we wouldn't even have compatible parts while combined."

"I have absolutely no idea!" Jazz replied, losing his composure and bursting into laughter just like he had before. "I sure as Pit wasn't gonna ask Skybyte! Though he said he never believed that one himself on account of my size." He set his cube aside to avoid spilling it as he shook. "Primus, if you tell me any of the Constructicons are hiding the components for a massive spike I will _never_ be able to look at them again!"

"Not to the best of my knowledge," Prowl shared, before smirking. "Although it's not as though we have ever tried to self-service while I was part of Devastator."

"You- that- ahahaha!" Jazz was laughing so hard now his vents were hiccupping. He had to take a moment to try to get himself under some semblance of control before he could speak again. "Thanks a lot! I sooo did not need to picture that," he gasped. "Heheh, well, even if for some unfathomable reason they _did_ , I am beyond incompatible! We'd have better luck finding cables and ports that fit, and I wouldn't fancy our chances of that either!"

Prowl couldn't help his own laughter after Jazz started. "No, I don't think that would be a very likely route either. The power output might be dangerous for you and ineffectual for us. So, not only are you probably the same size as a theoretical combiner's spike, you are also too small for a good charge." He sobered as he considered it for a moment. "Tactile might be an option at least, if you could handle the physical contact."

Jazz wasn't sure which broke his already straining processor more, the thought of a spike as large as he was (and oh thank Primus Devastator didn't have a valve either then because- Jazz aborted and dumped the thread) or the fact that Prowl was actually suggesting something potentially viable. His mouth worked silently, not able to form proper sounds as he turned the idea over in his head, bizarrely fascinated by the absurdity.

"An option for who?" he blurted out finally. "I mean, laying aside how hard it would be to get over the whole 'he's going squish me!' thing if Devastator picked me up-" how much control did any of them have over Devastator, anyway? Would it even be safe to try it? "-wouldn't that still be fairly one-sided?" Jazz looked down at his hands, contemplating. "Unless I used my magnets, maybe..."

"Before we get too far ahead of ourselves," Prowl commented, "there is the more important question of whether all involved parties would even want to make the attempt, and I certainly can't speak for them on that point." He could only hope the rest of the team never took interest in such an absurd idea. Prowl did not want to have to play middle-mech for that particular discussion. 

"Hey, I'm not the one that started talking actual logistics first!" Jazz broke off his study of his hands to reach over and poke a finger at Prowl's chest. "That was you! But seriously, don't bother asking them. In fact," he said, a shiver running through his frame as he drew back, "forget we ever had this conversation. Firewall it or something so they never find out about it." He rubbed at his arms, trying to settle his plating. "Please."

"I would rather simply purge the memories, I think." Prowl let his expression move from mildly horrified to a soft smile. "I would rather not share it with them either so that is not much of a concern."

He leaned forward and touched Jazz's arm. "Would you like a moment or should we simply move to a different topic?"

Jazz leaned into the touch and moved to curl against Prowl happily. "Nah, I'll be all right. Just hold me?" he asked hopefully. "And remind me what we were talking about, because I managed to derail us pretty well with that!"

Prowl's response to that question came nonverbally. Rather than speaking, he brought his other arm to curl around Jazz's frame and shifted him so they were resting against the low back of the couch. His wings were sitting higher again now in his own cheer, highlighted by the occasional flutter.

"We were discussing rumors in general and how to handle them. Were there any other complications I have to worry about due to the perceived public opinion of you?"

"Oh! Right! You said you'd talk to me first if you heard anything questionable, and I'd work on stomping out the worst of 'em as they cropped up and only tell you if I heard something really problematic." Jazz sighed contentedly, energon all but forgotten where he'd left it sitting. "What we didn't talk about was how open we wanted to be about answerin' questions and if we wanted to make some kind of announcement just to head off some of it with our coworkers. I know mine will all jump me the next time I'm in so it'd be good to be prepared. And since it's some of the mechs you work with that started the new rumors in the first place, you probably need to say something to yours too."

"Perhaps I'll simply announce a new regulation that personal lives are not to be spoken of while in the station," Prowl joked. A smile even crept onto his face plates for a moment. "I know it would never work, but it wouldn't hurt to try."

"It'd make a point anyway. Maybe make them think twice about spreading stuff like that," Jazz suggested. "Anyway, I don't mind anyone knowing I'm with you and that I _like_ being with you, but they don't need any of the details of what we're doing together or what I'm 'really like'." He made a face. "I don't want mechs thinkin' I'll spill personal stuff on you, like us bein' together means I gotta prove I know you better'n they do, and I'd appreciate the same from you."

"That sounds reasonable," Prowl agreed with a partial nod. "What about our friends though? Do they deserve to know more? I know there's probably a fine line between the two for you, but I do have a few myself to consider."

Jazz thought for a moment before answering. "I guess it depends on the friend? If what you tell them won't go further than their audials that's one thing, but my closest buddies are some of the worst gossips I know." He huffed a frustrated exvent. "Comes with the job, I suppose. But you'd know if your friends are different, and, strange as it is to say this, I'm pretty sure I can trust the Constructicons with whatever you tell them too."

He fell quiet again briefly. "What would bother me the most for anyone to know are things they could use against me," he said softly. "Isn't it ridiculous? I think I'd be more upset if you told someone about my apartment than if you talked about how good I am at kissing." He grinned up at Prowl. "Unless you tell them I'm no good at it. Then I'd demand a chance to prove myself and make you retract your statement."

"Perhaps once I am more comfortable with public displays, I will do just that then." Prowl returned the smile down at Jazz. "Any excuse to share a kiss with you is a good one as far as I'm concerned.

"As for who I'd be telling about us, there really are not many possibilities. The Constructicons will almost certainly know more than anyone else and I'll probably keep them informed more frequently." His expression became a frown as he continued on a topic that had been sitting in a lower processor thread all night. "I'm worried they might be feel I'm too distant, and I'm considering stopping by to visit them more frequently. Perhaps once a decaorn?"

Prowl regained his smile then. "Otherwise, I can't forget about Bluestreak. We don't talk often since he joined that space voyage, but we have sent messages back and forth. I just sent him one before recharging, actually. I only mentioned that we had gotten together and were trying out a relationship. I didn't know how much you would want shared but I couldn't let him find out through rumors without at least trying to be the first to tell him."

"Blue's a good mech. I'm glad you're still in touch, and yeah, I wouldn't want him to find out through the rumor mill either," Jazz agreed. "I don't want to replace your other friends or activities, you know. I just want to be part of your life, not take over your life."

He hummed thoughtfully. "I'm not trying to steal you from the Constructicons either. Maybe it would be a good thing to see them more often. It certainly sounds like they care about you." And while Jazz might still be testing the waters as far as friendship with them went, he could only approve of their devotion to Prowl.

"My thoughts exactly. I'm sure they'd appreciate the occasional visit from you as well," Prowl commented. "Even if you only show up alongside me at first." Then he hugged Jazz a little tighter for a moment. "We may not be one another's entire life, but you do have a habit of being the reason I remember to have one."

"I'm good for you that way," Jazz returned, reciprocating the tight embrace. "And it'd probably be good for me too, visiting them sometimes. I did ask them about a project as a kind of icebreaker and actually want to follow up with them on it. I could probably handle doing that by myself."

"Something about capacitors, right?" Prowl asked. "They mentioned looking for some for you. That's how they first heard the rumors actually. Apparently..." His confusion came from not understanding the item in question, not from the situation. "In any case, if you want to discuss that alone then by all means do so. I have no desire to control your life and I appreciate the chance to be even the smallest part of it."

"I'd even prefer it if you were a big part of my life," Jazz smiled. "That's cool they actually started looking into it!" Whether they had found anything yet or not, it would definitely be worth checking in with them since he had found another substitute to experiment with on his own in the meantime. Maybe between them he’d finally have an answer.

But that wasn't what he wanted to be thinking about right now. "Interesting way to run into rumors,” he remarked. “Of course, the point of rumors is that they end up everywhere. At least that'll work for us as well as it has against us to spread what we do want mechs to know."

Jazz shifted slightly and made an abortive move to reach for the cube next to the couch, but couldn't reach. He settled back with a chuckle, not willing to give up being in Prowl's arms just yet. "Would you rather I told them truthfully we're not interfacing yet to make some of them stop asking about it? All I've told Skybyte so far was that out was none of his business, but the implication ran more toward we were than weren't."

"If you think it would make them stop asking then go ahead and share that. I'm sure you'll disappoint several though," Prowl said with a soft laugh. "I wouldn't be overly surprised if some didn't believe you though. We have been together a while and there's your 'reputation' to account for. Besides which, who knows how many think we were actually together during the war and are only just now revealing our relationship. It can not hurt to try, however."

"Fair point, some of 'em might not," Jazz conceded. "But yeah, I can try. Not that I'm planning to make a campaign of it or anything. Just, you know, if anyone asks me and it comes up." He paused. "Maybe I'll just tell 'em we're taking things slow,” he mused. “They can assume whatever as far as when we hit what milestones. We do what works for us, not what anyone else thinks we should do. And not just where 'facing's concerned." Jazz traced a hand along Prowl's arm, stroking lightly along his plating. "Though it is one of those things on the list to talk about for the future."

"I suppose it is," Prowl agreed. "I do agree with your logic on what to tell others as well. It is not their concern exactly what step we are at or when. Are you willing to let our close friends know these steps or should we decide that on a case to case basis?"

"Close friends on a case by case basis? Yeah, I'd be cool with that," Jazz replied. "Who knows? Sometime you might want to go to them to ask a question or get advice on something before talking with me, and it'd be pretty hard to avoid then. I trust your judgment."

"As I trust yours."

He had taken longer to think on a previous subject but returned to it now. "That is a discussion we should decide when we want to have.” Prowl quickly clarified. "The one about interfacing, I mean. It is better to have the conversation on a separate occasion before the desire to do so occurs. There is less distraction if you aren't already aroused."

Thinking back to the conversation they'd put off for just that reason at the track, Jazz had to agree. "Heat of the moment is definitely not the time for that discussion, no. So when is?" Jazz hand stilled, his arm coming to rest on top of Prowl's. "Is it something you want to talk about now, since it's come up?"

Prowl did consider that. "My only requirement is that we discuss it before the situation arises so now is suitable, assuming you have the time for it as well?"

"I got time. All I have in my schedule right now is getting some sleep, and I'm not tired enough for that yet. And it's the second time it's come up, so I'm thinking sooner's better than later." Jazz finally forced himself to sit up, moving away from Prowl enough to retrieve his cube and turn to face him so they could see each other better to talk. "Unless you needed to sleep? I know I'm keeping you up pretty late."

Prowl had to quickly hide his disappointment that Jazz moved away before he turned back around but his wings did still sit just a little lower. There was, however, no trace of his mood in his voice when he replied. "Now is fine for me as well. I did rest earlier."

The Praxian then gave a small hum of consideration before opening the topic. "I suppose the first and most important question we need to get out of the way is whether we even want to interface. First as an individual decision and then as a question of whether the other is someone we would interface with."

"Truthfully? Whatever the rumors say about me, the answer to the first is not really." Jazz shrugged. "I _used_ to, before. But that's one of the things the war changed for me. For a lot of reasons." Most of which had to do with negative associations and a lack of comfort with loss of control. "It ain't something I feel much of a desire for anymore...at least, not recreationally."

Jazz's gaze dropped to his cube. "It got to where it was more effort than it was worth. It was too hard to get my head in the game even if I was running a charge, and that wasn't something I could really explain, you know?" He raised his helm to look directly at Prowl. "But you're the exception to that. You I _can_ explain it to, and relax with, and trust. _You_ I would like to interface with." His field carried an edge of nervous curiosity and hope as he asked, "You?"

"With rare past exceptions, I do not partake in casual interfacing," Prowl shared. And those exceptions had typically been work related situations. "I prefer to be in a relationship but even that is not a guarantee. I had one partner for several vorn and never once was I inclined to interface with the mech. Interfacing or not is certainly not a deal breaker for me," he added, giving Jazz a smile.

"As for having you as a partner specifically, well, that's easier to answer. You are beautiful, your frame nearly as much so as your mind, and anyone would be lucky to have a chance with you. So yes, I am willing as long as you are willing to try."

"Willing to, or want to?" Jazz asked carefully. "Because as much as I'd like to, it's not a deal breaker for me either. And I'd rather skip it than have you do something you don't really want to do." His field curled in on itself somewhat, though not quickly enough to completely hide the shame underlying the words that came next. "Especially since I can't guarantee I won't have some difficulties at first..."

"Those are very different concepts, now aren't they?" Prowl observed as he considered Jazz's question. "I have had more lackluster experiences than not so I am in no rush but yes, I very much would like to try with you. Even if there are a few complications involved.” He send reassurance in the face of Jazz’s fears, letting him know he wasn’t judging him. “And on that note, are there methods that are better or worse for you? I would venture to guess that cabling is not your preference?"

"You guess correctly," Jazz confirmed. "I think I've mentioned before, hardlines have too many other connotations for me to be enjoyable. It’s got the most potential to be dangerous for my partner, too." Being cabled together would make them both vulnerable should the wrong protocol activate at an inopportune moment. Jazz didn't want to risk Prowl, even if he could handle himself and it didn't result in serious damage.

"My preference would be tactile or field play first. Assuming that goes well," which it might not - Jazz hadn't interfaced at all in quite a while (self service didn't count) - and he wasn't about to discount the possibility that Prowl might not enjoy it, "then we'd need to talk more. Would that be all right with you?"

Prowl nodded and his wings flicked in an affirmative motion. "Fields are hard to go wrong with except that few know how to use only them. I'll even admit that I am probably one of those, but I will try to learn as long as you are willing to teach me.

"As for tactile, while I hear some frame classes don't get much enjoyment from the experience, it has always been pleasant for me. Done just right, the overload can be amazing."

"It can at that!" Jazz's visor flashed brightly. "Tactile works really well for me too, and if you _combine_ it with field play?" A light ripple ran over his frame as his plating shivered, remembering. "It's fantastic."

He took a drink to steady himself, then leaned in toward Prowl again a little bit. "I'm absolutely willing to teach you how to use fields. I'm even looking _forward_ to it," he smiled. "It can be tricky though, I'll tell you that right now. Gettin' really good at it takes time and practice, especially if you don't have good field control in general." His smile turned to a bit of a smirk; clearly that wasn't a problem Jazz expected Prowl to have.

Prowl smiled as Jazz explained but decided that a bit of teasing was in order too. So, when it came time for him to respond he let his features turn serious again. "I don't know... That does sound incredibly complicated. I’m not sure if I have the capacity to learn such delicate control." He let his wings flick once before smirking slightly.

"Oho, you don't do you?" Jazz's grin widened. "You don't think you can learn to adjust your field's amplitude and frequency while you're distracted by a barrage of external input to match and counter it?" His voice mellowed further as he continued to speak. "To create feedback and resonances that rebound against your plating and vibrate through your struts?"

Jazz's field flared out, focused and deliberate, reaching across the space between them to caress Prowl's arm, following the path his hand had taken earlier without a single touch. "You don't think you could learn to tune yourself to me as I match my pitch to you?" The almost physical pressure traced up across Prowl's chassis, pulsing against his plating in time with the glow of Jazz's visor. "Until we're both _singing_ with it?"

He held his field steady a moment longer before collapsing it again, the weight of it withdrawing suddenly. "You don't need to learn control, Prowler," Jazz said confidently. "Just application. Which, granted, ain’t necessarily easier. But I'd say you're at least halfway there."

"Wow. That was..." Prowl struggled for an appropriate adjective and eventually ended up repeating himself. "Wow... It sounds as though I have far more to learn than I anticipated." His smile managed to return though as he ended on, "I can't wait to start learning. It sounds like the only sort of music I may ever be capable of."

"There’s effort involved," Jazz told him honestly. "Doin' it really well requires bein' incredibly precise, and if you take it beyond foreplay that means you need the ability to focus through your own pleasure right up until overload - and some mechs can even keep going through that and use it, to a degree." He took a long drink, nearly draining his cube. "It also takes learning your partner. There's standard tricks that don't involve knowing another's frame specifically or interacting with their field, like what I just did, but you can do so much more with interactions."

His smile took on a contemplative lilt. "Continuin' the music metaphor, field play's a duet. And like any duet, you gotta practice a piece to perfect it. We'll have some sour notes and issues playin' in sync at first, but I have confidence you'll get it."

Jazz finished of his cube and set it aside. "Much as part of me wants to give you your first 'music lesson' tonight, I think it'd be smarter to wait a bit longer. Till we know if everyone knowin' about us changes anything." He scooted back towards Prowl, his field no longer intense or aroused, just filled with an eagerness for closeness. "I hope it doesn't, but I figure it's easier to take one thing at a time."

"I should hope nothing could change us for the worse," Prowl mused as he opened his arms to allow Jazz back in against him. "I quite like what we have going now. Even if we are considering more in the future, at this point nothing we could have is worth losing what we do have now."

"Agreed," Jazz said happily. "I like what we have, and I want to protect that as we go to add anything to it."

Warm and content against Prowl with fuel in his tank, Jazz felt the long day finally catching up to him. "You mind if I sleep over? I'm comfy here."

"I have no complaints if you wish to stay," Prowl assured him. He let his happiness creep into his field to back up his words and nuzzled Jazz just a little. "Although, if it's not too presumptuous or to be taken the wrong way, might I suggest we utilize the berth instead? It will provide far more adequate recharge than the couch."

"I could make an innuendo, but honestly I'd rather just compliment you on how practical you are." Jazz didn't make any move to get up just yet though. "Have I ever told you I love your mind?"

"You may have but it is never an unpleasant thing to hear," Prowl replied. "We really should get up now, before we’re no longer capable."

Still neither of them made any move to vacate the couch. Prowl vented soft but audibly. "Well, if we aren't going anywhere yet I suppose I should at least ask how I should wake you? I believe you once said that was a potential hazard to my safety."

"Oh! Yeah, though it's more of an issue if I don't enter recharge properly." Jazz reached up to tap the side of his helm. "I've got a series of shutdown protocols that make waking up easier and less problematic. I only forgot to run them that one time because of the high grade. Still, there's a couple of things you should probably know about."

He held up his fingers one by one as he counted them off. "First, if you aren't in contact with me, make some noise as you get closer. Not, like, a lot, but enough to announce your approach. I've got passive environmental scans that'll pick you up and they'll tag you as 'safe' if they can identify you. Second, call me rather than trying to touch or shake me. Out loud or over comms, though softly out loud's better.

"Of course if we're sharing a berth or cuddling like this, we'll be touching already," he said, letting his hand drop back to tap against Prowl's bumper. "Same thing applies though - call me, don't shake me, and move slowly if you have to before I'm awake." Jazz sighed. "Not that I want you to think I'll attack you if you don't or anything. I really don't have _that_ kind of trouble unless I'm really disoriented or startled in the morning."

"Understood," Prowl replied as he took a moment to file that data somewhere both in long and short term memory. It would be essential to hold onto for the future but he needed to keep a copy saved and at easy access for their wake up. "And saved," he added when he finished. "The worst I'm likely to do at an unusual wake up is be incredibly confused so there should be no conflicting issues."

Prowl leaned forward slightly then in order to place a quick kiss on Jazz's lips. "Now, are we going to get up or will I have to carry you to the other room?"

"Ooh, I like that idea!" Jazz said chasing after Prowl's lips for another quick kiss. "Carry me?" he smiled hopefully, shifting just enough for Prowl to maneuver either to stand or to lift him.

Prowl slid off the couch, chuckling. He did stay close enough to remain in contact and twisted to scoop Jazz up once he had his balance. His modifications post initial combination had increased his mass and strength, making the task easy. Then, he carried Jazz through his apartment and into the berthroom.

Once he released Jazz atop the berth, Prowl climbed on to settle beside him once again. "Better?" he asked jokingly.

"Much," Jazz laughed, moving around until he found the perfect spot. "I think I’ll stay." He was careful of Prowl's doorwings as he arranged his arms and settled against him. Jazz reminded himself to actually initiate a proper shut down as he started to drift off to the purr of Prowl's engine beside him. He felt safe. "You all right like this?" he asked, visor still lit but dimming quickly.

"Just perfect." Prowl accentuated the statement with a kiss. And then another. The first went to Jazz's helm, and the second to his lips.

They fell into a sedate silence soon after. As relaxed and comfortable as they were, curled up together, recharge didn't take long to follow.


	20. Conspiracy to Relax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planetary visitors call for extra help in the government, drawing Prowl back into old habits. How will this affect those closest to him and what will they do in response?

It had been an eventful few metacycles. As Jazz and Prowl had anticipated, there was a fair amount of interest from their friends and coworkers regarding their relationship status as the information that they were a couple spread. Some were more persistent than others in asking after details, but fewer than they had feared, and they were more easily manageable. After the initial surge of interest, most mechs quickly found other things to talk about - in no small part due to the distraction of the Camiens. As fascinating as dating gossip was, it couldn't hold a candle to exotic strangers from a long lost colony.

For Jazz, the arrival of the odd new mechs meant little beyond new topics of conversation at the bar and the hope that he would get a chance to speak with them eventually about their culture and, with any luck, their music. There hadn't been many opportunities for that yet though. The new leaders of Cybertron and the delegation of Camien leaders had a lot to discuss before much else could happen for the general populace, and Jazz appreciated that even if he wasn't interested in having any part of it himself. He was happy to sit back and wait, his only involvement being a voice of caution against spreading tales and wild speculation before anyone had any real information on the newcomers.

Prowl, of course, was more directly involved. His position and skills meant he was in high demand with the ruling council. It was fulfilling work, but also increasingly time consuming, and he had a great deal less free time as a result. That meant seeing less of both Jazz and the Constructicons, whom he had taken to checking in with a little more frequently before the new development.

Jazz hadn't minded too much at first. He certainly didn't hold Prowl's job against him, and he had been able to use the time they weren't spending together working on his instrument projects. He had been making some real progress on the synth harp, with the Constructicons' help. Working with them was going extremely well, to Jazz's initial surprise. Despite his fears that they would continue to flirt with him or give him trouble about dating Prowl, all they'd gone in for was the same good-natured teasing he got from Skybyte, only less invasive and more supportive. They treated him with a camaraderie he hadn't been expecting at all, and it was as refreshing as it was welcome.

Which was why, after over a full orn of not being able to reach Prowl (he was probably shut up in some conference with his comm off again) and with time to kill, Jazz decided to pay a social call on the Constructicons for some company.

It was a spur of the moment decision and he didn't think to call ahead once he stopped driving around aimlessly, trying to figure out what to do with himself, to turn off toward the medcenter. He hoped at least one of them was in, otherwise he had no idea where to start looking for them. He was queuing up Hook's frequency as he pulled up and transformed in front of the door, but as he walked in a large tankformer stepped out from the back into the lobby. He nodded in recognition to Jazz before passing him and exiting out to the street. The hot scent of fresh solder told Jazz all he needed to know. He sent the call through confidently.

[Hey Hook! It's Jazz. You with another patient, or was the guy I just passed the only other mech here?]

He received a response almost immediately. [Jazz? You're at the medcenter? Are you injured?] Hook was noticeably concerned, but not frantic.

[No, nothin' like that,] Jazz told him quickly. [I've just got the day off and felt like sayin' hi.] He made his way down the hall, peering around the door frame when he found which room Hook was in. "If you're busy, I'll leave you to it?" he half-questioned as he looked around to see what he was interrupting.

Hook turned to look when he heard Jazz speak in the otherwise empty room. He had been gathering up and sorting his tools for cleaning after his last patient of the orn. "You can remain. I just need to finish collecting everything that needs re-sanitizing," Hook shared. "It's not glamorous, but it needs to be done."

"That something I can help with, or should I help by stayin' outta the way?" Jazz stepped into the room and wandered over to where Hook was standing. "I wouldn't want to mess up your system - you an' Prowl both like to have things a certain way, I know."

"Unless you've been spying all orn and know where everything belongs you won't be able to help." 

"Not today~," Jazz sing-songed, purely in jest. He had never actually spied on the Constructicons after the war had ended, either in person or remotely. Bugging the medcenter would have been more in line with Red Alert, for all that it had taken Jazz a little while to relax around them. "Guess I'll just have to sit over here'n keep you company."

“You go ahead and do that.” Hook spoke in a mildly distracted tone as he considered the rest of what Jazz had said. When he spoke again, his tone held surprise at the realization. "I guess we do both have that trait in common, don't we?"

Jazz snagged a wheeled stool and dropped down onto it, spinning his way over to the wall where he wouldn't be in Hook's path. "You do, yes," he said once he stopped moving so he wasn't talking over the scraping of the wheels on the floor. "It's admirable really, having a system. I try to be organized too, but sometimes the urge to rock the boat is just too strong to ignore, you know?"

"Unpredictability does seem to suit you better," Hook commented as he continued separating various tools. Some had been used, some had not, and some simply needed cleaning anyway from standing unused too long. The task was not distracting enough to prevent him from holding a conversation, though there wasn't much to say. He did have one question however.

"How could you genuinely find nothing more interesting to do than watching me clean?"

"Hey! In my defense, I didn't know you’d be cleaning," Jazz protested, though the implication that he'd come looking for Hook regardless of what he might be doing didn't actually help his case. “Maybe I wanted someone to keep me company while I kept them company," he suggested too-casually, twisting the rotating seat of the stool from side to side restlessly.

"And despite your multitude of friends, you chose my company instead," Hook questioned. Still holding the clamp he had just picked up, the green and purple mech turned to stare when the stool made noise. "You really do have some incredibly juvenile behaviors, don't you."

"Your point?" Jazz spun a couple more times before stopping and sitting still, hands braced on the sides of the stool and his feet tucked up on the casters. It made him look small and, as Hook noted, juvenile. His question could have been a response to either of Hook's remarks, though it answered neither.

The Constructicon just shook his helm. "Sometimes I do wonder how he likes spending so much time with you... Can I trust you to keep yourself occupied for a few kliks while I take care of these?" Hook held up the container he had stuck all of his medical instruments into. "If you intend to hang around you could meet me in the lobby when I'm finished."

That sounded like a subtle hint to leave until he was done, but Jazz ignored it. "Don't mind me, I won't get in your way." He leaned back against the wall behind him and began humming softly. Had Hook recognized the Earthen tune, he might have been grateful he didn't start whistling it, as would have been more appropriate.

Jazz tried calling Prowl again while he waited to ask Hook if he'd had any word from him. He still didn't get any answer and hung up rather than leaving yet another message. There was nothing to add after the last few he'd left: [Are you going to have a free evening any time soon?] [Call me?] [I miss you.]

"Are you coming with?" Hook asked, interrupting Jazz's thoughts after a few kliks had passed. He no longer had the container of dirty tools and every surface of the room was bare of the same. "I assume you intend to follow me home as well?"

"You say that like I had a plan in mind when I got here," Jazz laughed, hopping down to follow beside Hook. "I haven’t been to your place since you finished it. Is it nearby?" The Constructicons had only recently moved out officially from the medcenter, which was where Jazz had continued to meet them for anything.

"You mean to tell me you don't have a plan for each orn?" Hook sounded surprised as he led Jazz through the building. "And yes, it’s just a couple blocks away. Unlike certain other medics, who continue to live at their medcenters."

"Certain other medics, huh?" Jazz chuckled, having a pretty good idea who Hook meant. He didn't dwell on it though. "And yeah, that's what I'm telling you. I know when I _work_ , but beyond that? Unless I got special plans, I just wing it." 'Special plans' meaning preset social engagements, which more and more was coming to mean 'dates with Prowl'. Jazz had been feeling rather adrift without him.

He missed spending as much time with Prowl as he'd gotten used to; talking, playing games, cuddling...especially the cuddling. Already a fairly tactile mech, Jazz had really been enjoying the physical contact. Skybyte told him he'd been more 'clingy' ever since Prowl started spending more time at work, and Jazz had been hard pressed to deny it.

He was gravitating pretty close to Hook now, in fact. Jazz forced himself to widen the distance between them a little, hoping the larger mech hadn't noticed.

Hook had in fact noticed, but only after Jazz had put that distance between them again. It seemed stranger to be so far apart now but he had no reason to feel that way. After considering it, he chose to chalk it up to another stray sensation from the boss. He had surely walked that close to Jazz countless times in the past and it would have felt natural for Prowl. Though he had been enjoying it, himself.

They reached the exit and Hook waited until they were outside before commenting on what he found to be one of Jazz's absurdities with one of his own. "'Special plans' you say? Isn't that just code for getting fragged strut-less by the boss?" 

"What?! No! Get your processor out of the gutter!" Jazz glared up at Hook, though without any real heat in his words. The true heat was rising up his neck and radiating visibly off his face in infrared. "You know full well we aren't doing anything of the sort!" Not yet, anyway, although every time the Constructicons teased him about interfacing with Prowl it just made him think about and want it more. Already the corners of his scowl were cracking, threatening to turn up into a grin. "Why do you always say things like that?"

"Because you want to," was the bigger mech's simple reply. He took them to the right. It wasn't so far they needed to transform and with most of the area as empty lots still, it was quicker to cross through what might be housing some orn on foot than it was to drive. "What doesn't make sense is why you haven't. As long as you two have been pining, it would make more sense that you'd jump in a berth together almost immediately. What's stopping you? He could certainly use the de-stressing aspect."

"It wouldn't be de-stressing if it just stresses things afterwards," Jazz mumbled, not denying that he wanted to but also not confident that Prowl _did_. They had agreed they didn't want to risk what they had by going too fast, and the fear of messing things up was still stronger than the desire to interface so far.

Jazz had to walk fast to keep up with Hook's longer strides across the open space. Distracted, he wound up right beside him again. "Anyway who said anything about pining? Who's been pining? ...how long has he been pining? Wait, don't answer that. I should be asking him that." It wasn't fair to ask Hook just because he was nervous to ask Prowl himself, no matter how curious he was.

"Yes, you should," Hook agreed. "And I don't intend to tell you anyway. He might not be willing to kill a gestalt mate, but I'm sure he has other ways of making my life miserable."

"And mine, for goin' around behind him like that!" Jazz sighed. "It's kinda hard to ask him when I can't get hold of him though. Have any of you heard from him? He didn't say anything to me about being unreachable for this long."

"Nor us. We thought he was spending his free time with you in between the government security work." Hook frowned. "If you haven't seen him either then he's probably overworking himself again."

"I've only seen him a couple of times since things really got going with the delegation, and the last time was almost a decaorn ago," Jazz informed Hook. "We spoke last orn, but it was just a quick call and he cut even that short. I bet he is taking on too much again!"

That was a frustrating prospect. In the past whenever Prowl started burying himself in work, Jazz had been able to sneak in and pester him until he took a break. If he were holed up in his regular office, that would still be an option now. The problem was he was in the main government offices this time. Theoretically Jazz _could_ infiltrate the place and try to drag him out, but that wouldn't go over very well if he got caught. Nevermind how little Prowl would appreciate it.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Jazz asked as they approached their destination.

"That is a good question," Hook replied. "I'm going to assume you've already considered and rejected the idea of doing something on your own? Though if you could get past Decepticon security, a few government mecha shouldn't be any trouble."

"Oh, I could get in," Jazz said confidently. "But just cuz I can doesn't mean it’d be easy." Without the layout and security specs of the building going in, it would be anything but to locate Prowl and reach him entirely undetected. "And I wouldn't be able to just walk out with him after. Someone would start asking questions and I'd wind up involved in things I don't want to deal with."

He shook his helm, trying to physically banish the idea and dislodge the thread in his processor goading him to test his skills and try it anyway. _It'd make Prowl look bad, havin' to answer for me to the off-worlders_ , he reminded himself firmly. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "That's still plan B if we can't come up with something better though."

Hook decided to let that topic rest for the time being and to give a minor warning as he opened the door. "Things might get a little chaotic inside. I didn't want to deal with the nagging so I didn't warn the others I was bringing anyone."

Jazz waited on the step for a minute, grinning up at Hook. "Nagging, huh? What, for us to walk faster?" 

"If I even told them it was you," Hook answered "but then I would have had their reactions to deal with. Of course, if I tried to just tell them I was bringing someone they would have nagged me to tell them who."

“Heh, I bet.” Jazz peered inside. "Is everyone else here right now?"

"See for yourself."

The entryway opened onto a large living room that currently held only one occupant. Bonecrusher was sprawled on the massive couch watching something on the rather expansive vid screen that sat along the wall the door shared. He barely glanced over their way at first, then did a double-take. "You didn't say you were bringing a guest home." Surprise and excitement overwhelmed the gestalt bond following a flashed image of Jazz at their door while Bonecrusher was sitting up properly. 

"I didn't exactly warn him I was coming." Jazz waved over at Bonecrusher. "Hi! Mind if I hang out? I could use the company, and some help brainstorming!" He didn't have the benefit of the gestalt bond to know where the others were, but he was listening carefully for them as he turned to take in the room. "Nice place you got," he remarked, his gaze finally settling on the vid screen. "I have _got_ to get me one of those! That's huge!"

"It's only huge 'cause you're so tiny," Scavenger commented as he practically appeared out of nowhere. "And hi, Jazz!" His greeting was repeated, albeit less enthusiastically, by Long Haul who followed him in from the doorway along the opposite wall. 

"I am not!" Jazz huffed dramatically, walking up to the screen to stand in front and look up at it. His frame blocked Bonecrusher's view of whatever he had been watching - or would have, if he'd still been watching it instead of Jazz...or if Jazz had been big enough to obscure more of the screen. "Okay, maybe," he conceded. "Just a little bit. But this is still huge."

He turned around, backlit by the screen with his hands on his hips. "That's not important though. Unless it helps us get Prowl to stop overworking himself and relax." He counted off mechs in his head and came up one short. "Is Mixmaster here somewhere? Hook said Prowl hasn't been in touch with you all much lately either, so I think everyone should get in on this."

"I'm right here," Mixmaster as he passed through the opposite doorway finally.

"He's been trying to make new high grade flavors," Scavenger piped up from where he had settled on the couch. "Do you wanna try?"

"It is not at the trial stage yet," Mixmaster refused with a mild glare and a less than mild jab through the team link. "And I've already told you I am attempting to recreate _old_ flavors." He turned towards Jazz before settling into one of the three large chairs scattered around the room. "You are welcome to taste test for me when it reaches that stage though. I could use an assistant with a more refined palette."

"We are getting off topic," Hook cut in with an additional admonition that their guest couldn't hear. "Jazz wants to enlist in a common goal with us."

Jazz couldn't help but be more amused than annoyed. Conversations with the Constructicons tended to get a little distracted from time to time, but they generally circled back around as easily as they wandered off. "I'd love to to help out when you're ready," he told Mixmaster. "I've really missed some of my old favorites, and if you're tryin' to figure out how to brew 'em again, I'm all for that! But we can talk more about it later. Right now we have a different problem."

He nodded back over his shoulder. "Can we turn that off? Great. Now - time for a strategy session!" Jazz clapped his hands together and looked around the room. "After talking with Hook, I have come to the conclusion that Prowl is falling back into old habits. He's burying himself in work, withdrawing from social activities, and probably not taking good care of himself. As mechs who all care about him, I propose that we come up with a way to get him out of whatever meeting room or office he's barricaded himself into and make him relax!"

"How do you suggest we get him to leave though?" Long Haul questioned.

"Yeah," Scavenger agreed. "If he's that busy then what can get him to leave?"

"I don't know yet! That's why I need your help." Jazz turned to Hook. "You know my backup plan, but that's worst-case only. I was hopin' that together we could come up with something better." If the goal was to get Prowl to relax, sneaking into a government building to try to smuggle him out was _not_ the way to go. That would only make him set his parking brake and refuse to budge for the intrusion. Getting him to come out on his own was their best bet - if they could manage it.

"He's been ignoring my calls," probably because he knew what Jazz wanted and didn't want to spend time arguing about it, "so I can't get through to him to try to convince him that way. I don't suppose he's answering any of you?"

There was a short chorus of negative responses but only Hook spoke up to clarify the situation at all. "He has us blocked and that is the method we would most likely use to contact him. I don't know about anyone else but I have not tried sending a comm yet."

"Me either," Bonecrusher agreed, prompting the rest to do so too.

"We thought he might be with you and didn't wanna interrupt," Long Haul added in further explanation. 

"I wish!" Jazz sighed. "Last time I actually saw him was a decaorn ago, and he didn't stay long. The most you could have interrupted was him making his excuses to get back to work. Thoughtful of you though," he said, blinking the light of his visor in a wink. "So your link won't work, but...if you haven't tried comms yet, maybe one of you can get through and tell him there's something urgent he needs to come deal with here?"

"It is an idea," Hook replied. "But what would he believe? It would be instantly obvious that none of us were injured."

"Unless the rest of us actually injured someone," Boncrusher pointed out.

"But how would we decide who?" Scavenger asked.

"I've got someone to suggest," Mixmaster muttered.

Hook had to step back in before the idea took hold too strongly or an argument developed and resulted in injuries anyway. "No one is hurting anyone else. I don't want to have to repair the idiots after."

"Yeah, how about we think of something else," Jazz said quickly. "Something that doesn't involve hurting anyone. Or breaking things," he added, not wanting the next suggestion to be damaging the house somehow to necessitate Prowl's intervention. "There's got to be another way to lure him out. Maybe...maybe the inventory at the medcenter is really off, or the supplies at one of your sites, and you need his help straightening it out?"

"He'd probably enjoy the chance to do something more like his normal work," Long Haul commented. "He has been far more irritated lately."

"You're right," Mixmaster agreed. "I hadn't noticed before but he is."

"Well, wouldn't you be if you had to work with Starscream?" Bonecrusher added. "Just existing in the same base was bad enough."

"See why I didn't go into politics?" Jazz laughed. "I never did envy you all having to deal with him. Starscream's a special kind of special, no mistake." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "'Course, even if Prowl finds his usual work relaxin' and the prospect of it does draw him out, there wouldn't be anything for him to actually do when he arrives. We'll need to figure out how to keep him here instead of drivin' off mad. Unless you really _do_ have a problem at one of the sites." He grinned at Hook. "Somehow I have trouble believing you'd let the medcenter get that bad without doing something about it."

"Of course not!" he responded immediately, aghast at the mere suggestion.

"We could move some of our supplies from one site to another?" Scavenger suggested.

"Because no one would find it suspicious that we were transporting so much stuff so late in the orn," Bonecrusher countered. "He'd figure it out right away."

"We don't really have to move anything," Mixmaster chimed in. "He doesn't know our inventory amounts."

"Oooh, there's an idea! Create a problem on paper for him to solve like a puzzle game!" Jazz made a face. "Not the kinda game I'd want to play, but he'd have fun with it. And as long as we don't tell him it's not real, with any luck it'll work to get him out of there." He looked around the gathered Constructicons. "You got a copy of the records we can mess with?"

Surprisingly, Long Haul was the one to bring a datapad from his subspace. He offered it out to Jazz as he spoke. "These are the originals. If you have a blank pad you can copy them and make whatever changes you want."

"You can sit down too," Scavenger suggested. "Come join us over here."

"I actually do have a blank pad! I think." Jazz pulled another datapad from his subspace and checked the contents. "Eh, close enough, I don't need what's on here anymore." He wiped the few files that were on it, notes he had already transferred but forgotten to delete. "There, good to go."

He walked over and took the datapad from Long Haul before climbing up onto the couch into the space between Bonecrusher and Scavenger. Their weight on either side of him kept him from sinking too far into the cushion as it gave comfortably beneath him. "Wow, I like this couch too!" Jazz took a moment to settle himself, leaning back and sighing happily. "Mmm. I'd say I need one of these too, but I got a new couch not too long ago." One that accommodated Prowl's doorwings much better than this one would and was just as comfortable for Jazz, especially with Prowl on it - when he wasn't too busy to share it with him!

This couch was large enough for Jazz to lay the two datapads out in front of him so he did, hooking them up to copy the files over so they could create their 'disaster' without compromising the real inventory records. "All right," he said, motioning the others to come over as it finished processing. "What do we want to pretend happened? Incompetence? Theft? Bit of both?"

"If you add a few inconsistencies between the totals and individual counts then one of our less mathematically inclined members can admit to having 'helped' with the datawork. There should be more for him to find however." Hook made the suggestion as he walked over. Long Haul joined too, coming to stand behind Jazz's location on the couch, and after a half klik even Mixmaster stood to join the rest. 

"Math errors...on top of...some more math errors..." Jazz narrated as he started adjusting figures. "Let's create a discrepancy in some of the original shipments that didn't get caught before some of the materials were used. That way he'll have to compare the logs of what was used to what was supposed to be delivered _and_ the actual totals which-" he paged through several records, "-now contain multiple reconciliation attempts that just make things worse instead of fixing anything."

Having the correct inventory right beside the copy he was altering helped Jazz keep track of the changes he was making and ensure that he was creating a problem that could actually be solved, rather than just a tangled mess of random numbers. He created logistical errors on the supplier side, arithmetic and data entry mistakes in the record keeping, and as a final touch deleted some inventory all together and created a record indicating materials used to repair a fence around the perimeter of the site, indicating a possible theft as an explanation.

"There, now he'll have to account for shrink too," Jazz said, double checking his 'mistakes' again. "What do you think?" He looked up at mechs around him, practically _surrounding_ him, and was briefly struck by how odd it was that he could sit here smiling at them rather than be trying to plot an escape. It felt… _good._

"Sounds like a huge processorache to me," Boncrusher mused. "I'm glad I ain't the one who has to fix it."

"It is a processorache, but at least the boss'll like it," Mixmaster commented.

"Are you done with that?" Long Haul asked Jazz. "Or do you think we should try calling and you can finish up while he's on his way?"

"Try calling him," Jazz urged them. "It kinda kills the whole plan if he doesn't even answer."

Long Haul nodded as he opened his comm line to Prowl's frequency. There was no answer and he decided to leave a message when the option can up. ::Hey boss. We don't mean to bother you but there's a problem with some of the numbers for supplies at one of our sites. Think you could stop by and help us out?::

There was a collective frown shared by the group even before Long Haul closed the line. Scavenger was the one who specifically told Jazz, his tone dejected. "He didn't answer."

Jazz's shoulders slumped when it became obvious Prowl hadn't answered, even before Scavenger's confirmation. "Darn," he said softly. "I was really hoping that'd work."

"He should be getting a break soon," Hook commented. "He's usually less irritated around this time and he can check his messages then. I still think this is our best plan though, even if he doesn't find it until later."

"We don't have any other plan," Bonecrusher grumbled. "Of course this is our best one."

Mixmaster spoke next. "As long as it works, that doesn't matter. He has to find time for us."

"He hasn't yet," Bonecrusher countered. "And even if he does show up later, that doesn't mean we'll all be here to detain him. How long are you even staying?" he asked, looking to Jazz. 

"How long can I stay?" Jazz came back with. "If there's a chance he'll show up later, then I wanna be here! Besides, I've got the orn off." An orn that, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't feel like spending alone or with any of his regular crowd. "Maybe we can just hang out?" he asked hesitantly, not sure what other plans the others might already have.

"This was going to be an orn off for us as well," Hook shared. "The only reason you found me at the medcenter at all was because I witnessed the incident that injured that mech and it was nearby. I wouldn't have been there otherwise. You are welcome to stay as long as you like."

"You will stay for a long time, won't you?" Scavenger asked. He might have been the one to voice it, but they were all interested in the answer. They liked Jazz better the more they got to know him, though their romantic interest had shifted to a back burner and for now they weren't actively trying for anything more.

"As long as I'm welcome!" Jazz grinned. "We can wait for Prowl to call back and distract ourselves from worrying about it in the meantime." If there was nothing more to do but wait, they might as well find a way to enjoy it. "You got any good movies? I am seriously digging this vidscreen." 

Scavenger was quick to move at the question about movies, dropping to the floor in front of the screen to open the cabinet that sat beneath it. Within the unit were two shelves full of movies in no particular manner. He turned back around and exclaimed, "Take your pick!"

Jazz picked up the two datapads and subspaced them for now, lest they get lost in the couch or accidentally sat on and damaged and hopped down to join Scavenger in flicking through titles. "I like this one, and this one...ooh, is this the full cut?" he asked, grabbing an old Velocitronian action racing film. "We have to watch this!"

He handed the movie to Scavenger to set up the system and looked back at the seating arrangement. "Hmm. It's too bad the couch isn't big enough for all of us to fit together. Whoever gets stuck in that one chair over there isn’t going to have a very good view. "

"We could move a couple chairs behind the couch," Long Hail suggested with Mixmaster close on his heels. "Or just push the couch back and all sit on the floor..."

"I'm thinking we push the couch back. Do you have extra cushions or something we could pile on the floor?" Jazz’s visor twinkled with mischief. "We could make a pillow fort!"

Scavenger was halfway into the process of loading the movie when Jazz made his suggestion and turned back to him. "We don't have any extras but all the cushions come off the couch and chairs so we can just use those."

"You really are such a youngling sometimes," Hook muttered as he shook his helm in their general direction.

"I dunno." Mixmaster countered with, "it could be amusing."

"It would be an interesting test of our skills," Long Haul mused. "Building something stable from structurally unsound material. And this won't hurt anyone if it fails and collapses."

"I wasn't disagreeing," Hook told them. Then he looked towards Bonecrusher. "Are you going to help too?"

"Oh alright, fine." The resistance was mainly for show though.

"Well then get off the couch so we can move it!" Jazz told him. "And bring those cushions with you." He got up and walked over to one of the chairs to start divesting it of its cushions. They were well secured with hidden fastenings to keep from sliding, but Jazz found them quickly by feeling around the edges. "Here's another inventory question for you: how many of these do we have? We aren't going to be able to build very high walls if we use most of them padding the floor, unless we turn the couch and chairs to use the backs."

"That's a good suggestion," Long Haul stated. "You wouldn't do too bad in construction if you were bigger."

Bonecrusher had dropped the couch cushions on the floor in front of the vid screen and moved to help him maneuver the couch around. Meanwhile, Hook, Mixmaster and Scavenger had each taken a chair to move those as well. Initially it had been to move them out of the way but now it was to create the walls of the fort. 

Long Haul was the one to speak, questioning the arrangement. "Where do you want the fort situated?"

"In front of the screen, of course!" Jazz answered, placing his cushions with the others in the space being enclosed by the bare furniture. "We still wanna watch the movie, don't we? That means we gotta be able to see it, which puts the back wall of the fort there where the couch is and the chairs as the side walls." He reviewed their building materials critically. "Good thing we don't need a fourth wall."

He looked at his taller and larger companions and chuckled. "It might make it harder for you lot to get in and out of it, but is there anything we can use for a roof? A proper fort needs a roof to keep out the rain, and it won't be a problem for me since I'm so _small_ ," he teased.

"We've got blankets," Scavenger shared as he stopped his current task before vanishing through the back doorway, he told the rest, "I'll go get some."

"Why do we need to worry about rain when we're indoors?" Bonecrusher questioned. "There's another floor and perfectly fine roof above our helms."

"Because," Jazz repeated, "a proper fort needs a roof. It's the principle of the thing! It's probably for the best it can't rain indoors, because blankets wouldn't hold up to it very well anyway. Unless it was raining popcorn."

"How does the boss survive you?" Long Haul asked as Hook just shook his helm. "Raining popcorn... That's almost too crazy an idea just for us."

"I keep his life from getting boring. Though I don't think we really need popcorn either. There isn't a good energon equivalent for popcorn, and even if there was, it'd just be a mess to clean up."

Soon Scavenger was back with a stack of three blankets. They were folded decently and didn't seem to take up much room at all, especially in his arms. "Got 'em," he needlessly informed the group. 

Jazz walked over to grab the top blanket from the pile and shake it out to see how large it was. As small as it had looked folded in his hands, Jazz didn't have the armspan to hold both edges without a significant amount of it draping in the middle and trailing on the floor and binding around his feet when he tried to move with it. "...nobody say anything. Just help me spread them between the chairs."

Silent amusement was shared across the bond, along with a few good image captures of how ridiculous Jazz looked holding the blanket. At the same time, they moved to help. Mixmaster took up a side of the blanket Jazz held while Bonecrusher and Long Haul each grabbed a different one. It didn't take long, but did require some debate and the need to delegate Jazz to supervising (with another comment about his stature), before their fort had a roof. They even covered the sides as well.

"Well," Bonecrusher mused. "We've done worse and dealt with worse quality materials before."

Jazz, meanwhile, just beamed at their creation. "It's perfect!" he proclaimed. It wasn't, of course, but Bonecrusher was right - for what they'd had to work with and how quickly it had come together, they'd done quite a good job. 

That just left getting everyone inside without knocking it down. It looked massive while standing empty, but Jazz knew it would be a close fit. "All right," he asked the group. "Who's going in first?"

The five larger mechs shared a silent look and then Long Haul spoke as Mixmaster, who was closest to the fort's entrance, began fitting himself in. "You should go last," he told Jazz, "since you'll fit in easily."

Their actual method came down to a mix of proximity and the order of least to most maneuverable, but the five of them managed. There wasn't any floor space to spare though, and Scavenger was the one to comment now, his time saddened. "Maybe you won't fit after all."

Jazz snuck a few image captures of them all crowded together in the fort. It really was a fantastic sight, but he covered his amusement under contemplation of how he could possibly get in with them. There was really was hardly any room left. He could only see one way that he might be able to do it…

"I could fit," he said slowly, "right there." The way they were all sitting left a pocket of space in the middle of the fort just big enough for Jazz - if he climbed over Scavenger to reach it, sat partially on top of both Bonecrusher and Long Haul, and leaned back against Hook.

A tiny part of his processor warned that would be a mistake, that he would be trapped. Jazz firmly shoved that thought into a deletion queue. That was the past talking; this was now. He walked confidently up to the edge of the fort and lifted his foot up onto the cushion. It sank slightly under his weight as he reached for Scavenger. "Gimme a hand?"

Said mech did so without question as they all watched and waited, curious over where Jazz intended to end up. There were rewarded a couple kliks of struggling and lots of minor shifting later. Once everyone had settled but before they started the movie, Mixmaster spoke up. "It's good you already know this one. We might not get to finish it. The boss just messaged and said he had something to finish up but that he should be here in two joor."

"He did? Yes!" Jazz exclaimed gleefully. "It worked!" Both their plan to lure Prowl out, and the fort as a distraction. Jazz had forgotten all about worrying whether or not Prowl would even listen to their message. "All we have to do is keep him here when he shows up then! Though probably not in here," he laughed. "There's no way anyone else will fit!"

Everyone chuckled at that, the vibrations travelling from one mech to the next wherever their plating met. Jazz relaxed against them as it died down, surprisingly comfortable. Those two joor wouldn't be a hardship at all.

"Someone start the movie," he said. "We'll watch however much we get through."

~

They got a little over a joor and a half into the movie before Prowl arrived. The Constructicons had even managed to get so enraptured by it that they hadn't noticed his approach until there was a ping from the door. Hook sent the ever present permission to enter and was just about to warn Jazz when Prowl walked through the door. He stopped one step in, surveying the scene.

"I was under the impression that there was a problem here?"

That drew Jazz's attention away from the movie immediately. "Prowl!" he called out from where he was hidden. "There was absolutely a problem," he said as he began trying to maneuver so he could reach into his subspace for the datapad with the modified records.

"Jazz?" Prowl asked. "What are you doing here? And where are you?"

The fort wobbled a bit as the mechs inside shifted around. Scavenger made his way out to properly pause their movie while also giving an enthusiastic hello. The boss's side of the bond was still blocked without being completely closed so there was no point in trying anything that way.

"I'm in here," Jazz replied. With Scavenger out of the way he was able to climb out as well, giving the others more room to move and escape too without accidentally spilling him onto the floor in the process. "And I came over because of the problem," he said, successfully retrieving the datapad.

"They called you too?" Prowl asked. His wings tilted in questioning to match his words and then his focus shifted to the datapad. "What's that?"

"Nah, I just followed Hook home," Jazz said, grinning over at him before walking up to Prowl. "Here - this is the mess they were talking about. You finally got some time for somethin' other than work and dodgin' my calls?"

"Jazz, I... That's not..." At a loss for words about the situation, Prowl pulled Jazz close in order to give him a kiss. It was nothing too long but also didn't end immediately. His field went from happy to sad and regretful as they pulled apart and Prowl could only state, "I'm sorry."

"Wow...now that's an apology," Jazz said, a little bit stunned. He hadn't been expecting that at all, especially not with their audience. Knowing he and Prowl were dating was one thing, but seeing it was another and they’d never done anything like _that_ in front of them before. He could practically feel the Constructicons' attention on them and wondered what, if anything, Prowl was getting from them over their bond.

Not that he was going to let them ruin this. If it didn't bother Prowl to have them watching, then it didn't bother Jazz. He stayed leaning against Prowl, giving him another slow kiss back and savoring it after so many orn apart.

"You're here now," he said finally when at last he drew back. "And we can talk more about it later." He squeezed his free hand on Prowl's shoulder encouragingly, then waved back with the datapad at the crowd. "Right now, I think we're keeping them waiting."

That did what even the amusement, interest and curiosity buzzing in the team link hadn't managed; to pull Prowl’s attention back to including everyone. His wings dropped slightly and angled back, embarrassed, as he asked a question once again. "What is that?"

"Some of our inventory is off," Hook shared. 

Long Haul took over, adding, "We should have had enough supplies but one of our sites has too much of some stuff and we're short on other materials."

"All the records are on here," Jazz said, finally surrendering the datapad to Prowl. "I'd offer you to sit and work on it, but right now the only place you could sit is the floor. We, ah, kinda built a pillow fort," he finished, somewhat unnecessarily.

"I take it that was your idea," Prowl stated, gently poking fun at his mate. He really examined the fort as he said it though and came to an additional conclusion. "However, I am impressed you convinced everyone to assist you."

"They only agreed cuz I didn't insist on the popcorn," Jazz joked, smiling at the Constructicons. "It was fun to build though. Thanks for indulging me."

"It passed the time," Bonecrusher shrugged.

At the same time, Scavenger claimed, "It was fun."

"It was a unique test of our skills," Mixmaster added.

"I suppose it would be." Prowl nodded absently but his wings flicked approval. Then he turned his attention to the datapad and onlined it to glance through the saved files. "Was there anything in particular I should be looking for or should I simply see why everything does not add up?"

"You're supposed to reconcile the current inventory count with the previous one. And, more importantly," Jazz added with an innocent expression that was anything but, "you're supposed to relax and have fun."

"How am I supposed to have fun when there's such a serious situation to handle?" Prowl replied. "There might have been a theft to investigate, and you know that's no laughing matter." His serious tone dropped as he teased his mate again. "Besides, you said yourself that there's really nowhere but the floor to sit currently and it seems as though the six of you took up all the room in your fort."

"We only take up all the room when we're in it!" Jazz protested. "Which we aren't, now. If you don't like that option though, there's always...um..." he trailed off, suddenly realizing he had no idea where else Prowl could work on the puzzle. He looked to Hook inquiringly. "Little help here?"

"Through the door and follow the hallway all the way down. That would be your room, if you ever decided to move in," Hook shared with Prowl. "There is only a berth currently but we factored in enough room for a standard desk if you wanted to set up a partial office as well."

Prowl's wings flicked in surprise and he even dropped his block on the link to offer his silent gratitude. "That was quite considerate of you," he stated, receiving bright expressions from the rest.

"We know you like your quiet so the room is practically soundproofed," Mixmaster added.

"And your privacy," Long Haul added. "That's why it's tucked all the way in back."

"Yeah. Our rooms are all upstairs so you can have all the space you need," Scavenger shared as Bonecrusher moved around him to begin dismantling their fort. He did choose to speak as well though. "We want you to feel welcome here, should you ever consider moving."

Prowl looked between his team. There was genuine shock in his field and the gestalt bond. "Anyone who has ever said you are not thoughtful is an idiot. Thank you." The resulting happiness from his words was even more visible privately, and it brought a soft smile to the Praxian's features too. One he let drop as he reluctantly went on to say, "I suppose I'll go work on this now."

"I'll stay out here and let you focus," Jazz said, impressed that they already had a room set aside for Prowl. It obviously meant a lot to him, and that made him happy as well. "I should help put everything back in order."

Prowl nodded with a small smile, then headed off, leaving them to it.

Jazz watched Prowl for a long moment as he disappeared down the hall, then turned abruptly to the others. "Okay, that's probably not going to take him all that long to figure out, and after that - assumin' he doesn't walk right out because we made up the problem - how are we gonna keep him from goin' back to work?"

He started to gather the cushions from the floor so there would be enough space to fold the blankets and move the furniture again, tasks both more easily accomplished by the larger mechs in the room. "I know if we were at my place I'd try to get him to play games or just pin him on the couch, but I don't know what you've got to work with here besides movies." He glanced down at the selection again, which were mostly action titles. "And I'm not sure how many of those we could get him to watch, or that he'd find 'em all that relaxin'."

"We thought you had a plan," Mixmaster replied.

Long Haul picked immediately after him with, "Yeah. Usually when the boss stops by we just talk about current work projects for a couple joor and have energon together. That's not likely to relax him now."

"Haven't you figured it out by now? My plans involve a whole lotta last second improv," Jazz laughed. "Having energon's not a bad plan though, once we restore some semblance of order to the seating."

He looked at Mixmaster as he started handing cushions to Bonecrusher to reposition on the couch. "I'd ask if we could try using your kitchen to make treats or something to go with it, if there was room for everyone and you thought baking might be a fun activity." Then he sighed. "If we were trying to get him to _really_ relax, finding somewhere he could soak in a hot oil pool would be great. Problem is the closest one ain't exactly nearby, or private. There'd be too many other mechs around."

"Now there's a nice idea," Bonecrusher said. "Our next home project should be an oil bath."

"There's room in back," Scavenger agreed. "We can cover it to keep any rain out and maybe walls too."

"That would increase the privacy as well," Long Haul added, as Mixmaster nodded. "We have been at a loss for our next personal project."

"Focus. We're getting off track again," Hook reminded them. "We need something that will keep him here and distracted _now_." He looked to Jazz. "The treat idea may work. We have supplies if you have any recipes."

"I've got a few, yeah," Jazz supplied, climbing up onto the couch to finish securing his final cushion. "Hang on a sec." He sent over a small file containing three fairly simple and _very_ sweet recipes. "I've got some others that might appeal more to Prowl at home on a datapad somewhere, but!" he said, raising his finger up in the air. "The second one on that list has a sour variant. We could do a batch of each. Or a couple of each, depending on how well stocked you are and how many you want to eat!"

Mixmaster was the one to reply to that. "We should have plenty of supplies for at least three double batches. Unless someone's been nibbling again." The latter was said with a pointed glance over to where Bonecrusher and Scavenger were settling the two chairs back in place.

"Wasn't me this time," Scavenger defended as he noticed the look.

Bonecrusher followed quickly with a calm, "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."

Jazz laughed again. "How 'bout I let you all figure out what is and isn't in the kitchen and whose fault it is while I go check on Prowl?" His smile turned a bit sheepish. "I should really be the one to explain we made the whole inventory disaster up, anyway."

Hopping back down to the floor, Jazz started down the hall. "Comm me if we don't actually have what we need! And I'll ping you if Prowl decides to be really mad and uncooperative." He hoped that wouldn't happen, but if it did it would be nice to have their help convincing him not to go back to work...even if it meant they all stayed while Jazz left. He was perfectly willing to take full responsibility for that if it meant that Prowl took a break with his team before he broke.

He found the room right where they'd said it would be and knocked on the door frame before entering. "Hey Prowl. How you doing?"

Prowl looked up at the knock after his wings twitched. His expression was one of confusion. "I don't think you gave me the proper files. All the numbers here match up."

"What?" Jazz came to a stop partway across the room. "No, I couldn't have," he said, reaching into his subspace for the other datapad. He looked down at it as he powered it on, scrolling through the documents quickly to check. 

The numbers were all unaltered; it was definitely the original copy of the inventory in his hands. Jazz looked back up at Prowl, equally confused. "What do you mean the numbers match up?" he asked worriedly. Had he not saved the changes somehow?

"What I mean," Prowl stated as he stood up, explaining as he slowly walked closer to Jazz and offered out his datapad so Jazz could see what was on the screen. "All the file save dates and times match up in rapid succession. Furthermore, the file creation dates, according to this pad, are all from a few joor ago.

"I might not have checked had you not been the one storing the datapad. It was curious that you would be visiting right at the same time that there was a problem but the situation became suspicious when you held the documents I was to review. Of course, it might still have been innocent even after I found similar timestamps. Perhaps I had only been given a copy, so I could make changes as necessary. It was still worth questioning, and you gave exactly the sort of answer I was expecting to prove my point."

He offered Jazz a smile before finishing. "You seem to have forgotten that deduction is an important part of my regular work."

Jazz stood in stunned silence for a moment, then chuckled ruefully. "Guess I must be slippin', huh?" He felt a bit foolish for forgetting to alter the timestamps, though there hadn't really been enough time to change them all convincingly even without spending time on the fort and the movie. Making them all match to resemble a working copy, however, would have been possible. In hindsight Jazz wished he had thought of that - and that he hadn't played right into Prowl's trap.

"I thought that perhaps you got distracted and forgot. Given the company, I really can't fault you for that. Although, I wasn't expecting that trick to work."

It shouldn’t have, Jazz felt, though it didn’t really matter. He'd intended to tell Prowl it was a fake anyway. Still... "Just goes to show what happens when you work distracted," Jazz sighed. "You're right, it's not real. I had them help me come up with a problem we could use to lure you out of the office and call it in cuz I couldn't get through myself. The idea was to make it a kind of game to solve, somethin' fun that didn't involve any slaggin' politics."

He handed both datapads back to Prowl. "Here, consider the original the answer key, if you still want to give it a try. I should have told you when you arrived, but...well, I was worried you'd turn right around and try to go back to work, and you need a break!" he insisted stubbornly. "It was either this or infiltrate the building and kidnap you."

Prowl was still smiling but Jazz's last admission had his wings tilt up in surprise even as he chuckled lightly. "That would have been amusing but unnecessary. The capitol building is still mostly open to the public and if you had asked at the front desk they would have directed you to the room I've been temporarily assigned." His wings drooped and he let his gaze slide towards the ground without moving his helm. "I had actually been waiting on you to do that and have some crazy excuse for why I had to leave, just like you used to try when we were still becoming friends. When you didn't, I began to worry that you thought I was pushing you away and that you might not want to continue this. That perhaps you were starting to think I was too much trouble to be with."

"Prowl!" Jazz reached up to kiss him solidly. "Never. Don't _ever_ think you're too much trouble for me unless I've said so!” he said when he pulled back. “And I'm pretty sure none of my messages sounded anything like that."

His helm dropped as the next words came quieter. "I ain't exactly comfortable in that building," he admitted. "I don't like some of the mechs there and they don't like me, and there's others I don't want to talk to about certain things that I _know_ they'd try to get me involved in if they saw me there." He brushed his fingers tenderly along Prowl's plating. "You're the only reason I'd wanna go in there, and I would have done if I had to, but I was tryin' to get you to come out first. I'm sorry you thought that meant I didn't care anymore. Believe me." He looked back up, visor bright. "I care."

"I am glad to hear that," Prowl replied, looking back at Jazz as he spoke. "I care deeply for you too, and I would never want to push you away." Hesitantly, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Jazz.

When the hug ended, embarrassment crept into the Praxian's field and even the angle of his wings. "I suppose I shouldn't have avoided listening to your messages..."

"You didn't even listen to them?!" Jazz gave Prowl a gentle shove. "See, this is exactly why I had to resort to working through the Constructicons! If you'd listened to any of my messages you would have heard me say I miss you and for you to call me! Then I could have come up with some brilliant scheme to force you to leave," he teased.

Prowl's wings sank in embarrassment as he spoke. "I didn't want to hear anything that would confirm my fear. If I didn't acknowledge it then I didn't have to accept the truth yet. It sounds utterly ridiculous, I know." He managed to offer a small smile. "I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

Jazz's answering smile was a little bit sad. "I understand not wantin' to confirm your fears," he said. "But you didn't have to suffer like that, because I wasn't getting tired of you. It was more like the opposite: I was goin' crazy without you." He took Prowl's hands and held on tightly. "I'll say it clear so you don't keep worrying about it and your processor can't go twistin' you 'round in circles anymore - you're forgiven. Okay?"

"You know well how to placate my fears and concerns." Prowl gave Jazz's hands a gentle squeeze as he managed another smile, brighter this time. "I am lucky to have you."

"Ditto, mech." The words were casual, but the feeling was genuine. They stood together for a moment just basking in being close, EM fields meeting and meshing reassuringly. Jazz had really missed this.

Then he remembered the others. "Oh! Right! I almost forgot." His field turned playful. "The Constructicons said they had the ingredients to make a few batches of treats, and I thought that might be a fun way for us to all spend some time together." He tilted his helm inquisitively. "What do you think?"

"It sounds like it's most likely to become a disaster so I can only assume this was somehow your idea." Prowl was smiling though. Both his EM field and the cant of his wings supported the humor in his statement as well. "It does sound like a chaperone will be necessary however, so it would be irresponsible of me not to assist."

"Aww." Jazz pouted, though his EM field flickered back amusement. "Why do you automatically assume if something could turn into a disaster that it was my idea?"

"Because I know you and your interests, and the fact that many of your harmless ideas result in minor disaster. Whether you acknowledge such or not."

"Heh. Guilty as charged, I suppose. Or maybe, credit where credit is due!" Jazz smiled cheerfully. "To be fair though, you have fun with some of those things too." He nodded toward the door. "Come on! Let's go make a mess out of the kitchen and bet on who it'll bother more, Mixmaster or Hook."

As Jazz spoke, there came a mixed nagging and curious probe through the team link. Prowl couldn't help chuckling. "It sometimes seems like you're the one in the gestalt," he told Jazz. "Your timing matches perfectly They are curious what we are doing and why we haven't come out yet. Come on - let's go join them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not clear, this chapter does skip forward the equivalent of a few months. From here on out there will be longer gaps between the events in the chapters because now that the basis for everything is lain we want to jump forward and show how it develops.


	21. Designed to Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Constructicons have a surprise to show off. What is it and what comes from this reveal?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In human terms, I believe this is comparable to roughly half a year after the previous chapter. Just to give appropriate time scale references.

"Well that's unusual," Prowl commented after shutting down his comms. "That was Hook."

Currently, Jazz was curled against him on the not-so-new anymore couch that Jazz had purchased practically half a vorn ago now. They had sat down for energon and then shifted to cuddling without even noticing as they debated whether to watch a new vid Jazz had found or to play a few rounds of a game. Both ideas required separating and one of them getting up however, and thus neither had occurred. Instead, they had lost themselves in idle conversation and generally enjoying one another's company. 

At least, they had been until they were interrupted. The team link had been abuzz with excitement in the back of his processor so when Prowl's comm line buzzed moments later it had been reasonably easy to guess one of the team was to blame. His assumption was correct. Their message however, was nothing he had anticipated.

"They want me to stop by tonight, as soon as I can." Prowl's facial features were curious but his wings were tilted in concern. "It didn't sound like anything bad had occurred but he said it was important. This wouldn't happen to be another scheme you set up, would it?"

"No, not this time." Jazz smiled fondly, remembering the last time he'd enlisted the Constructicons to help him surprise Prowl. He had found out that they had designed a better chair for Prowl's office but never gone ahead with making it and commissioned them to do so. When it was finished, he had helped sneak it into the precinct as a 'welcome back' present for Prowl being able to stop spending all of his time in the government building and return full-time to his regular job once things with the Camiens had been largely sorted out. That had been an occasion worth celebrating in his opinion, and what better way to celebrate than with comfortable office furniture?

Prowl had been very appreciative, once the initial confusion of thinking someone had stolen his chair as a prank in his absence was resolved. The memory made Jazz want to consider doing something like that again, but before he could get too distracted with new ideas his own comm lit up with an incoming call.

"Hang on, someone's calling me now too." Jazz paused to answer it, his own features shifting to a look of surprise before he ended the transmission. "Well, well. That's interesting." He looked at Prowl, confused. "That was Hook, and he just said the same thing to me. What's going on?"

"I don't know... It certainly doesn't seem as though it's anything that's gone badly but that's all I'm getting from them. I suppose we won't know until we get there." Prowl sighed lightly and hugged Jazz tight for a moment. "That does mean we have to get up now, however. As much as it pains me to say so."

"It does if we want to find out what's going on," Jazz agreed, hugging back before finally pulling away reluctantly. "Saves us the trouble of deciding on what we were gonna do though." He stretched languidly before offering Prowl his hand. "Shall we?"

"True," Prowl agreed as he took Jazz’s proffered hand stood. "Though it doesn't mean we have to enjoy it."

"Yeah, I'm gonna reserve my judgement till I see what they want too. I was enjoyin' this."

They were on the road soon after that and arriving outside the Constructicons' home a short while later. Hook was waiting out front when they pulled up. "Somehow we weren't expecting the two of you to arrive together," he mused.

Jazz laughed. "That doesn't surprise me, since we were already together but you called us both individually," he told him.

"The Boss didn't say anything about being with you when we called him," Hook explained, glancing at Prowl before facing Jazz again. "I do apologize for the redundant call then."

"It's cool," Jazz waved him off. "Anyway we're both here now. So? What's so important?"

"You didn't mention that you wished for Jazz's presence as well." Prowl slipped in. "I was expecting to reschedule our evening together."

"We need your help with something," Hook told them. As he said the next words, he turned and started walking towards the nearer corner of the house. "If you'll follow me, I can show you."

When he led them behind the house, they came upon another structure that was almost certainly new. A single story, this building was about a third the size of the house itself, maybe even half. There was a door facing directly at the back of the house, specifically at the back door, but there were no other features to it. 

"Oookay," Jazz said slowly, sizing up the building. "How does this need our help, exactly? Or am I to assume we're supposed to go inside first?" He paused. "Are we _both_ supposed to go in? You said you weren't expecting us to show up together. Was one of us supposed to get here first?"

"If you did, we would have kept you waiting until the other one showed up. What?" Mixmaster looked over at Hook as he came out the backdoor of the house just in time to hear Jazz's question and answer him. "I was just grabbing a few things..." he muttered in explanation. At a silent signal from Hook that even Prowl didn't catch, he crossed the yard and slipped inside the building. There was a wall immediately inside the door creating a hallway and blocking the inside from view in what little space existed around Mixmaster's mass before the door shut again.

Hook gave a resigned sigh. "All right. Why don't you just follow him and we'll just show you what this is all about."

Jazz looked to Prowl silently before shrugging his shoulders and walking over to the door. "You've definitely got me curious," he said, pulling it open and peering inside. The hall went on far enough that it was still all he could see without walking to the end of it, so that was what he did.

Hook came after him with Prowl, gesturing when they reached the building's entrance. "After you, Boss."

They were only partway down the hall when Jazz reached the end of it and drew up short, waiting for them. When they caught up, Prowl stopped beside Jazz in the mouth of a hallway that was more than large enough for them to walk side-by-side. Just inside, it opened up to a room that took up the entire building, enclosing a massive oil pool. It was sunken into the ground and looked to have a variable depth. The other four Constructicons were all gathered around the back wall, waiting and watching intently.

"What do you think?" Scavenger asked.

"What do I think?" Jazz echoed softly, looking around the space in awe.

The pool was nothing fancy or decorative. The interior walls were plain and the steps down into the oil were utilitarian, and the area for showering off before using it wasn't so much separated as set back against the wall on the right hand side. There was a line of shower heads behind a row of benches that could be used either to make washing up easier or to place towels where they would be easier to reach than the simple shelving unit in the far corner clearly meant to store them when not in use, and the only aspect of any real visual interest was the textured flooring designed to prevent slipping.

That didn't stop the sheer size of it from being impressive, nor the heat rising off the oil from being extremely enticing. "This is _incredible_ , that's what I think!" Jazz announced. It had to be big enough to fit _all_ of them, though he noticed there were only two sets of towels out at the moment. "When did you finish all this?"

"Just the other orn," Bonecrusher shrugged.

"We finished the structure four orn ago," Long Haul clarified. "We still had to fill the pool though."

"It's ready now though," Mixmaster said proudly. "And we thought you should get to try it out first."

"That is extremely considerate of you," Prowl replied as he continued to look around. "And this is incredibly impressive. I can only imagine it took a considerable amount of time."

"About twelve decaorn," Hook explained from behind them. "It would have been much less but we were only working on this when we had an orn or two off."

"You sure did a good job keeping it a secret all that time!" Jazz remarked. Not that it would have been all that difficult he realized, thinking about it. While they both came over occasionally, Prowl more often than Jazz, neither of them had ever gone out behind the house. They spent most of their time in the living room when they visited, especially after Jazz set up that sound system he'd threatened to go with the massive vidscreen, although Prowl would sometimes retreat to 'his' room when it got too loud.

"It wasn't exactly hard," Scavenger said, echoing his thoughts. "It's behind the house where you can't see it from the street, and you never looked out back."

"Though we did wonder if you were ever going to ask about it anyway," Long Haul admitted, "since it was your suggestion in the first place."

"It was?" It took Jazz a moment to remember what he was talking about. "Oh. I guess it kinda was." He laughed. "I didn't know you'd gone ahead and started it already though! Otherwise I might have asked how it was going."

"It is quite the surprise," Prowl mused. "And you truly want us to use it first?"

"We thought you two might want the chance to enjoy it all alone," Mixmaster shared.

Bonecrusher followed up with, "if you don't wanna try it out then you can leave."

"No. Way." Jazz planted his feet very firmly where he stood. "We're not going anywhere!"

Scavenger chuckled. "We didn't think so." He walked around the pool and stopped briefly beside Jazz and Prowl. "Enjoy yourselves!"

"The fixtures are all standard," Long Haul said as he came over as well. "You shouldn't have any trouble figuring out the showers, and the oil's already hot." It was, in fact, already at Prowl's preferred temperature, a fact which they might or might not have been aware of.

"You can adjust it if you need to, however," Hook told Jazz. "Try not to splash too much."

"Splash? And waste a single drop of this?" Jazz said in an affronted tone. "I'll have you know I would never!"

"Your behavior is incredibly juvenile at times," Prowl pointed out. "It is not exactly something you might not do either."

There was amusement through the link from both Hook and Mixmaster, who were the last two to leave. They had both heard the statement and the validity of it was unquestionable. The pillow fort had only been the first inane stunt Jazz had tried to rope the lot of them into, although they would never admit that he succeeded more often than not.

"Maybe if this was a pool party!" Jazz joked as the door fell shut behind the last Constructicon, leaving him alone again with Prowl. "But that can be for another orn. I was having a good time relaxing with you, and I intend to keep doin' just that."

He stepped forward and turned in a full circle, really taking in the room. "Have I ever told you that your team does amazing work?" he asked, awed by the scale of their accomplishment. "Cuz they really do."

He stopped facing the showers, then looked inquiringly at Prowl. "You help me, I help you?" he offered.

"I'm sure you have," Prowl replied, "but you really should be telling them personally." He stepped up beside Jazz. "That sounds splendid. You first?" he also offered, bringing one hand up to gesture towards the showers.

"I do tell them directly!" Jazz assured him. "But it doesn't hurt to say it to you too. That way you can tell 'em I really mean it."

As promised, the controls of the shower were familiar and simple to operate. The cleanser flowed easily and drained away neatly, carrying what dust, dirt, and odd bits of debris had accumulated on Jazz's frame away with it. It wasn't a lot - Jazz had to keep himself looking sharp for the stage, after all, so he washed frequently - but it was still enough to be worth rinsing off so none of it got in the oil.

Especially since it meant a chance to get Prowl's hands back on him. Jazz picked up two cleansing pads after he'd stood for a moment under the cleanser and tossed one to Prowl, keeping the other for himself. "Heads up!"

Prowl caught it with practiced ease and stepped up to join Jazz beneath the spray. It was nice and warm and he unconsciously spread his wings to enjoy it more fully even as he looked Jazz over. He did not even try to hide it either, instead giving a smile when Jazz looked at him.

"You'll probably have better access to your own front," Prowl shared. "So it's better if I take your back. Unless you have a convincing argument otherwise?"

"Weeeell," Jazz said, tapping his chin with the pad in an exaggerated gesture of thinking. "If you did _both_ , I could always return the favor and do the same for _you_." The pad left a streak of bubbles on the side of his face. "Unless you want to get in the oil sooner..." he trailed off, leaving the option open. As much of a decadent luxury as the pool surely was, Jazz wasn't in a rush himself. His washrack wasn't big enough for two to share like this, and he wouldn't mind spending a little extra time enjoying it.

Prowl took a moment to consider that before he gave an answer. "While I'm sure we would both enjoy the oil, I see no reason to rush. I detect a bit of matchmaking in action, albeit incredibly late..."

As Prowl chuckled, a spike of curiosity probed at him through the team link and he closed that off with a quick warning flashed to the rest. Among the tasks that occurred when he visited his team without Jazz, one of them was them helping him understand the gestalt bond and how to utilize it. At least as best as they understood and could explain. Many points required simply feeling and experience to grasp them and so he was having trouble with them, but others, such as basic courtesies, were easy enough to internalize. Like now.

Prowl then shifted his focus outwards again. "I apologize for the distraction. We are completely alone now."

"Eavesdropping were they?" Jazz smiled indulgently. "If they're goin' to say they'll let us alone, then they should stop tryin' to cheat like that. Busybodies." It surprised him to realize that he wasn't angry at them for doing it or at Prowl for not already having them blocked. There was a time where he would have been upset, or at the very least unsettled, by that. Now it just amused him. Amazingly enough, they had actually all become friends.

He was still grateful Prowl had shut them out more firmly now though. Friendship was as far as Jazz wanted to go with anyone other than the mech sharing the shower with him. "Thanks Prowl. I dunno about matchmaking since we're already together, but they do seem awfully keen on us expandin' our repertoire of activities to include a few more...interestin’ ones." One activity in particular, since they had yet to truly interface - a fact which the Contstructicons knew, even if not all of their other friends or coworkers believed it.

Regardless of anyone else's thoughts on the matter, however, Jazz's opinion was simple. "I fail to see how what we do with our time together is anyone's business but ours," he said primly, though his visor flickered with a wink. "I am all for expandin' activities to include that brush in your hand right now though." He stood still, waiting for Prowl rather than starting on himself. "Please?"

Prowl instead leaned in to give Jazz a quick kiss. "If anything, it is more my fault than theirs for forgetting it was open still but I did correct my mistake now." 

Before Jazz could have a chance to argue, he then brought the brush he held up to the other's frame. He started with a couple slow and gentle circles to Jazz's chest before looking back to meet his visor. "How is that? Too rough? Too light?"

Jazz's engine purred under Prowl's hand. "A little more firm and you'll be just right."

"So you like that?" Prowl questioned lowly while he did as requested. His next circling stroke went slightly wider and the following one saw his hand move just a little slower. "You do seem to be enjoying it."

"Mmm...very much, yes." Jazz leaned into the touch. His visor dimmed as Prowl continued and he focused on the sensations. "You're good at this," he hummed happily. "I think I'll keep you." 

"You will 'keep' me, hm?" Prowl teased as he passed the brush slowly down his partner's abdomen. "That's not really how this works. You see," he began murmuring practically in Jazz's audial. "A relationship requires both parties to agree."

"Ahh!" Jazz nearly dropped the cleansing pad still in his hand as the sound vibrated against his helm and straight down the rest of his frame, making him sway slightly in place. "H-how 'bout you keep me too then? Can we agree on that, maybe? Please?"

"I think," Prowl paused after wiping the last section of armor he was working on and pulled his hands away. "Your questioning is absurd." He then leaned in and gave another kiss; first to Jazz's helm and then to his lips. "And unnecessary. There is no force that could make me not want to be with you." Another kiss, again to the helm. "To be yours and have you as mine. That is all I want."

Jazz's visor glittered with the emotions welling up from his spark. "Nothing would make me happier," he breathed softly. "And nothing'll ever change that." He shivered in Prowl's arms, the truth of the words ringing through his processor as he finally allowed himself to feel them fully.

"Prowl?" He looked up at that beautiful face, that beautiful mech, and almost couldn't form the words even as he could no longer hold them back. "I love you."

Prowl couldn't move for a moment; frozen in shock and joy. Both of which were evident in his field, especially with Jazz still in his arms. "I never thought I'd hear you say that..." His words came slow but held honest emotion while his wings quivered. "I... I love you too."

Jazz's field surged ecstatically to mingle with Prowl's, but his smile was soft and tender as he reached up with one hand to bring Prowl's helm down to meet his, pressing his forehead gently to his chevron.

They stood together for a long moment; not moving, just feeling. "I was afraid to want this," Jazz said at last, his voice thick. "Afraid to want something I thought I couldn't have."

"I have come so close to this so many times," Prowl admitted. "But I did not want to put any pressure on you to respond. I wanted to know you actually felt the same and were not simply saying the words because I had. I never want to be a source of stress or grief for you, just the mech who can help them all melt away."

"Mech, you are that. You've been a source of strength and stability and safety in my life almost as long as I can remember, and it means the world to me. I just hope I can be even a fraction of that for you. " Jazz stroked his fingers over Prowl's helm where they rested, tracing the contours along the side. "You've really just been waitin' for me to say it first, huh? Wish I'd said it sooner then."

"I am glad to hear that," Prowl shared, "because for all your irritations that I may have complained about, it always settled my spark to see you home and safe after every mission. I missed you dearly, and sometimes even longed for you to show up and distract me like you were so apt to do."

He hugged Jazz tightly again. "I am so glad to have you now, although if we stay like this then we'll never get to enjoy the oil."

Belatedly Jazz remembered where they were, the feel of the cleanser pattering on his plating registering again past Prowl's warmth. "But you just said you liked me distractin' you," he teased lightly. "Though this position does make it hard for me to reach your back." He raised his other hand, still somehow miraculously holding the scrubbing pad, and waved it.

Prowl couldn't help chuckling. "Perhaps I did, but I would much rather be distracted from leaving the oil pool than from ever entering it." He then took a moment to consider Jazz's other statement. "I suppose you should allow me to finish cleaning you then, unless you'd rather do me first?"

"Oh, I'd like to do you all right." Desire curled briefly in Jazz's field before dulling back to a warm, contented glow. "Later, when don't have this marvelous pool to enjoy." It really would be a shame not to take advantage of it, and just _being_ with Prowl was enough for Jazz right now. There was also another consideration - "And when we're farther away from them." He stepped back carefully, trailing his hand down Prowl's arm before angling his frame so he could reach his back. "You were almost done, I'll let you finish first."

Prowl laughed again as he brought his cleaning pad up to start gently rubbing Jazz's back. "You mean to tell me that you don't want to be able to brag that you overloaded six mechs by only touching one of them? Consider me surprised."

He paused in his scrubbing then to lean forward and drop a kiss on Jazz's helm, accidentally transferring some of the bubbles and soap to his own frame as well. "I agree however. I would rather limit it to just the two of us. Especially while you teach me your preferred style. Surely that will be complicated enough without any added distraction."

"Well now there's a thought!" Jazz laughed. It was even a distinct possibility, unless Prowl was able to keep a firm grip on his mental blocks through an overload. Hence the buffer of physical distance - at least until they were more practiced. "Thanks but no thanks. Learnin' field play's tricky all by itself without havin' to keep track of a bunch of extra stuff."

He reached over to wipe at the transferred bubbles on Prowl's frame, only succeeding in spreading the soap further. "Whoops. That didn't help all that much, did it?"

"I suppose it made your job marginally easier," Prowl teased. It was strange how easy such actions had become. Strange, but nice. Although he hadn't found anything yet that Jazz's presence couldn't improve. "Now turn around again so I can finish your back. If you interrupt me one more time then I'll leave you how you are."

"You'd leave me unfinished?" Jazz gasped in mock horror. "That's not very considerate!" He still did as Prowl bid though, turning fully and then freezing in place. "Lemme know when I can talk again," he said smartly before audibly snapping his mouth shut.

Prowl was silent but wore a smile as he returned to cleaning off Jazz's back. When he was done though, rather than let Jazz spin around for his own turn, Prowl had a different idea. Jazz had been cheeky with his last statement, now it was his turn.

Prowl brought his cleaning pad up and began gently gliding it along Jazz's helm and around the base of his sensor horns. How long would it take to get him to speak again like this?

Jazz jerked when the pad brushed up against the first horn. He started to turn his helm to look at Prowl, to ask him what he was doing. Then remembered his own words and instead grit his denta and said nothing.

He tried, anyway. Prowl was being very deliberate with his movements, and the longer he tried to hold out, the harder it became. His plating twitched with the effort of staying quiet.

Prowl's smirk grew as Jazz fidgeted under his light touches. His movements were gentle and sometimes he was just barely touching Jazz at all. Every so often he would flick his wings too, causing a quick and inconsistent breeze. After a while of that, he pulled his hands down to Jazz's shoulders and leaned forward carefully so no more of his frame touched Jazz's. Then he placed a soft kiss to the tip of one sensor horn.

"Hnnn!" A low whine finally burst from Jazz's vocalizer, matched by the one from his engine as his fans stuttered and tried to come on. He hadn't known what to expect when Prowl had pulled back and stopped all forms of contact. That kiss, coming on top of everything else, was finally too much to take. "Okay, that's it, I think I'm clean now!" He pulled away and turned to face him, heat radiating from his face. "What was that about?"

"You spoke before I said that you could," Prowl replied with a teasing smirk. "It was an accident at first, but then I wanted to see if I could affect you that much."

"Trust me, Prowler, you affect me that much," Jazz said, his plating rippling slightly as he settled it. "Too much more of that and I'd have had too much of a charge to deal with! Though I'm all for playin' that game again some other time."

Stepping back up to Prowl, he brought his cleansing pad up to rest on his bumper. "Right now I believe it's my turn, yes?" He dragged the pad gently up over his plating in broad strokes, sweeping over Prowl's curves and lingering over his seams.

"That does feel nice..." Prowl's wings even flared out as he let the pleasant sensation wash over him. "And yes, we should definitely play for real sometime... Probably somewhere a bit more comfortable than against a wall too. My berth or your couch," he offered. "They are the most comfortable locations I can think of."

"Why not both?" Jazz's sultry voice matched his suggestive grin. "After all, isn't that our arrangement? To take turns whose house we play at?" He pressed more firmly with the pad as he moved up and down Prowl's arms, then one by one took up his hands and traced up, over and between each finger softly. "I don't know about you, but I'm really looking forward to our next game night."

"As am I," Prowl managed to to say without too much pausing. He had slightly less luck in his next statement though. "Hopefully some orn soon we can also discuss making 'yours' and 'mine' into a simpler 'ours.'"

"You mean that?" Jazz's motions stilled as he focused on what Prowl had said and the way he had said it. "You mean that. You really mean that." He rocked forward to steal a quick kiss. "That is _definitely_ something we should discuss. Although," he said, resuming his task, "I know several other mechs who're wantin' to have a similar one with you."

Jazz moved around behind Prowl, trailing the cleansing pad over his abdominal plating and wiping down his thigh panels efficiently. "Have they said anything to you yet about makin' that room you got here permanent?"

"They have mentioned it, yes," Prowl answered as he enjoyed the feel of Jazz's touch. "That is another aspect of the living arrangement discussion. I am genuinely considering agreeing, but I would like to have your thoughts as well. Would you like to offer your opinion and reasoning or should I share the aspects I've already considered?"

"Hmm." Jazz paused again, this time with the pad hovering right at the base of Prowl's left doorwing. "They only mentioned it to me to ask if I thought you might be receptive to the idea, and I honestly wasn't sure." Built up soap dripped down from the pad onto the joint as Jazz absently tapped a finger, sending minute vibrations chasing the foam across Prowl's back. "What has you thinkin' of doing it?"

"It makes sense in many ways," Prowl replied honestly. It was a struggle not to flick his wings due to the strange treatment they were being subjected to. As a distraction, he turned to the multifaceted debate as it had been running in his processor for orn.

"We are bonded, albeit in a strange way, and like traditional bonds it will get stronger and we may even be compelled to spend more time close. I would rather be able to choose the circumstances than take whatever option exists should it become compulsory. Moreover, however, the idea does sound and feel right. Unfortunately, that is the best I can explain that statement. Plus, I have been spending more time with them and this might facilitate greater ease in learning how to control and understand our link, but I also don't want to cause any strain between us. There will always be a room for me here, should I choose to utilize it, but I don't want to create any problems between you and I."

"Does that mean you'd've already said yes, if not for me?" Jazz asked carefully, smoothing the pad over the broad surface of the sensor panel in front of him before sliding it back slowly along the bottom edge. "Maybe you should do it, if it's what feels comfortable and right to you. I can certainly understand wantin' to stay in control of your bond, and I'm not gonna fault you for that at all."

He switched to the other doorwing when he reached the center of Prowl's back again, repeating his earlier motions. "Besides, I like it here too. And we'd still have my place for whenever we need a little extra space."

"I haven't yet given it enough thought," Prowl shared. He couldn't stop the slight shudder that passed through his frame at Jazz's actions. "My reasoning is not definitive enough yet, but I did not want to come to an answer that you might not like. This choice does affect both of us after all."

"Then we think about it and talk about it some more together," Jazz agreed, finishing with the second doorwing with a flick of the pad over the handle. "Together is good. Being able to decide things with you...for _us_..." he trailed off, trying to find the right words. The answer came in the feeling that flooded his field and filled the space between them. He leaned in against Prowl's back, nestled between his doorwings. "I love you," he whispered again.

Prowl pushed his field out to meet Jazz's, mirroring and enhancing the feeling. "I love you too," he promised. Then he moved forward to turn and take Jazz into his arms. "The thought of building a life with you awes me as well."

"I wonder what that life'll look like?" Jazz sighed happily. "Way different than I ever would’ve imagined, for sure. Even when I let myself dream, I never figured I'd wind up with a whole family."

"I never anticipated having a family either," Prowl shared. "This will be a completely new experience but I can't wait."

"Me neither. So what are we waiting for?" Jazz squeezed his arms around Prowl one more time before squirming to get loose again. "We've taken long enough, don't you think?" He was gesturing to the pool behind them, though his smile hinted at a deeper significance to the words. "It's time to enjoy this."

Prowl tugged Jazz back under the spray. "Just a final rinse and then I agree. We really have been stalling far too long." His indulgent smile matched Jazz's, meeting both meanings. "It is time for us to enjoy ourselves."


	22. Construction Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz has an important announcement to make and so do the other six.

Prowl smiled indulgently as he watched Jazz work. It seemed like he was testing something but the Praxian wouldn't know what unless he asked. Security systems were not an area he was trained in so he had left it to his mate to make the upgrades Jazz himself had stated the building needed. Neither the rest of the team nor he had seen any reason to argue, but they were also ill equipped to help. Thus, Jazz had been left to do most of the installation alone. Occasionally, he would get or request help but, as he had admitted once to Prowl while they lay cuddled together and tucked away in Prowl's room in the back of the house, that let him take as long as he needed to consider his decision.

Jazz had promised to give them, Prowl and his Constructicons, an answer after he finished installing the much needed (in his opinion) security system. The question they were waiting on was whether Jazz would actually move in with them, for it all it seemed some orn that he already had.

Out of well-worn habit, Prowl opened a comm line to Jazz. ::Is it a good time to interrupt? I just got home and I'm waiting behind you.::

::Hey there stranger!:: Jazz answered without looking away from what he was doing. ::Gimme just a sec.:: Internally he was amused by Prowl's timing - not only was he nearly done for the day, but also, at long last, with the installation as a whole. Not that he'd said anything about finishing today, even though Scavenger had stopped on his way out earlier to ask how he was doing. He hadn't been trying to pressure him, just offering to pick up anything he needed, so it hadn't bothered Jazz any more than his noncommittal answer had bothered the larger mech.

The diagnostic he had been running pinged that it was complete. Jazz checked the results and set it to run again, partly to be sure and partly as a final stalling tactic. He felt sure of his decision, but the prospect of making it truly official was still a little daunting. He was tempted to go ahead and tell Prowl, knowing he'd support him...but no, that wouldn't be fair to the others. This was about more than him and Prowl - this was something they all needed to hear together.

Again the diagnostic came back clean. That was that then. Jazz disconnected the leads and closed up the access panel he'd been using, the seams vanishing so it was indistinguishable from the rest of the wall once he'd locked it down. Putting the tool back in his subspace, Jazz turned at last and smiled at Prowl.

"Welcome home," he said, walking up to give him a quick kiss. "How was your day?"

"I've had worse," Prowl replied. "Another set of off world delegates landed but I sent Silversong off to deal with them. He's the same mech I loaned to the government to act as my proxy the last time, when those bots from the beast-former planet arrived. He seems to enjoy the job so I think this one is finally a good fit."

Switching topics, Prowl glanced towards the wall Jazz had vacated. "Are you done for now then? Or is it simply dangerous to leave that compartment open for too long?"

"Done, though it wouldn't be dangerous to leave open anyway." In truth, none of the new security access points around the house were dangerous to leave open - they were just dangerous to open in the first place. Or rather, they were _difficult_ to open. Except for the main user console, which was simply keyed to each member of the house, everything was wired to lock down if accessed without the proper codes and sequences, which at the moment only Jazz had.

It was an impressive system, infinitely better than the one that had been in place before Jazz spent his first night over after Prowl had moved in. He hadn't been able to enter full recharge without securing the location in a way that satisfied his protocols, which had proved impossible when he had tried with the existing security at the time. Once he was aware of the inadequacies, he hadn't been able to relax in the house until he upgraded it, though the initial round of improvements was minor compared to the final version he'd just completed. And yet, even the final version was nothing quite as extreme as what was still installed in his own apartment from when he had first gotten it. As stringent as his protocols remained, enough time had passed that Jazz no longer felt the need for _weaponized_ security, at least.

Prowl would be proud of him, he thought, if he knew how different the two setups truly were. Jazz never had asked how much the mech had spotted at his place though, and he wasn't going to now.

"I hope he does take it on permanently," Jazz said as he gathered up the few other odds and ends he'd left scattered on the floor beneath the panel. "That'd let you off the hook for good, and we wouldn't have to worry about your stress levels every time a new colony comes knockin' on the spacebridge."

"Half the stress is practically self-imposed due to how time consuming it is. Then I have to worry about the five mechs waiting at home, hoping I get to show up at all that night." Prowl did quirk the corners of his mouth into a slight smirk as he added, "make that six, when you decide to visit."

"We like it when you make it back from work on time, yeah," Jazz said, affecting a casual air as though it was only a minor inconvenience when he didn't, despite that patently not being the case. The facade didn't hold up long, cracking under the weight of a smirk. "It's more fun when you're not already worn out when you get here, too." The way Jazz's field caressed Prowl left little doubt what he meant by that, but the phantom touch didn't linger.

“That is yet another good reason not to stay too late at work.” It was very distracting, but Prowl did have another question. "Is there anything you need to update us on or new codes we need to worry about? I understand this is important for you, but prevention is the best method to treat accidents."

"Everyone's still plannin' on being here for dinner tonight, right?" Jazz came back with, abandoning his teasing. "Cuz yeah, there're a few new things I need to explain so y'all know how to disarm it if somethin' goes wrong, and...there's an announcement I want to make."

"Yes. Mixmaster found another recipe he wants to try out and he's been focused on that all orn. He wouldn't let any of us live it down if we missed that, yourself excluded." Not that Jazz wasn't practically a steady fixture in their home life already, despite not yet moving in. "Will you return in time for dinner or should I warn everyone you'll be busy?"

"I'll be here," Jazz promised. "I wouldn't want to incur the chef's wrath for missing his latest creation!" Unless it was one of his rare failures; fortunately they didn't happen often. "Just let everyone know I want to say somethin' after, okay?"

"I shall," Prowl agreed with a smile, "although it's not as though any of us will kick you out immediately following the meal." The levity in his tone faded slightly as he continued. "You will likely want to leave now even if this is a quick errand."

"Oh, I see how it is," Jazz laughed. "You won't kick me out later, but you will now." Prowl was right though; if he didn't get moving, he wouldn't be back in time. "Don't worry, I'm going - and I'll be back."

Jazz slipped past Prowl, waving over his shoulder as he walked out the door and transformed to drive back to his apartment. The road was a familiar one, as often as he'd driven it, though lately he'd been driving it less and less. Despite initially spending more time at Jazz's place when Prowl had first moved in with his team, they had eventually begun gravitating more toward the house. It was where they could all be together, yet still be alone if they needed it. And it didn't hurt that it was bigger and nicer too.

The shift had been gradual; so gradual that Jazz hadn't realized how much time he was spending there until he'd gone home for the first time in nearly a decaorn once and saw how much of his life had migrated across town, piece by piece in his subspace. About the only things left were those too large for him to carry or that he didn't need often enough to have transported already. Arriving at his apartment now, the living room that greeted him after he deactivated his security and stepped inside looked rather bare. The berthroom was even more so, and even his workroom had been almost entirely relocated too. The Constructicons had made room for him to have his music and instruments at the house, the same as Prowl now had an office in addition to the berthroom they shared. It made it easier to borrow tools, for one thing, and to bounce ideas off them when he got stuck or bored.

Jazz had already collected the straggling small items into boxes over the last few orn and stacked them with the furniture he wanted to keep - basically just the couch he had bought for him and Prowl and his work table. Those weren't what he had come back for now though. Quickly but carefully he dismantled and packed away the components of his entertainment center that he didn't want to leave behind, though he left the basic unit. Then he moved on to the final piece: his security system.

If he was going to sell the place, he could hardly leave the illegal weaponry where it was.

As difficult as it was designed to be for an intruder to take down, Jazz was able to do it in a breem or two, having installed it in the first place. By the time he had finished his subspace was nearly at capacity, but there were no longer any nasty surprises in the walls and he had the final components he needed to fully initialize the security at the house. The basic alarm system that remained, along with the deadbolt, were all that was left to guard his few remaining possessions until he could get assistance moving them. He expected he would have five large, eager green and purple volunteers after tonight.

He hesitated in the doorway for just a moment, looking back at the apartment. It was still hard to think of making it official, even if he had basically already moved several decacycles ago now. But Prowl and the Constructicons were waiting for him at home… _at home_. Feeling his spark lighten, Jazz turned and left, locking the door behind him and driving away without another glance back.

Back at the house, everyone was getting restless as they waited on the last member of their family to show up. Technically, he was not yet officially a member of the family but it was close enough. Or so they thought, but his absence now was worrying. A couple worried that Jazz might have finally decided against moving in and vanished. Even Prowl was having a hard time keeping the worry completely out of his helm, despite being 85.347% sure that Jazz was nearly ready to move in. That number had been far higher before his mate left.

It was a genuine relief when the door opened. 

"Hi! Sorry I'm late, I - wow, you're all here," Jazz said as he came inside. "Wasn't expecting everyone to be out here, I figured you'd have started without me." He smiled at the assembled Constructicons and Prowl. "Thanks for waiting."

"We didn't want to make you feel bad by already being settled in and ready," Prowl explained. "At least this way you don't appear to be postponing anything."

"We should sit down now though," Mixmaster muttered. "That mixture won't stay right for long."

"Much appreciated." Jazz smiled at Prowl before looking at the others and rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. "All right then, let's get to it! I'm starving, and I'm curious, and anything else can wait until after dinner!"

"Prowl said you had something you wanted to say," Bonecrusher said as they started all together toward the kitchen.

"Falls under the category of 'anything else'," Jazz told him. "But yes, there is an announcement I'd like to make. After we're finished, since the words'll keep but the energon won't."

This time he wasn't going for another delay tactic, though it probably looked a bit like one. What he had said about the words keeping was true though - a few breems wasn't going to change his decision now, and he was looking forward to refueling after all the work and driving he'd been doing.

"Yeah, you've gotta see it too," Scavenger mentioned as they settled in around the table, sans one mech. He was shushed before he could say anything else.

Moments later, Mixmaster came forward and set down a tray of various smaller cubes of colored energon. Red and blue, pink and blue, green and gold, green and pink, gold and purple. Any way the colors could be mixed, they had been. The lines between colors had just begun to blur so there was still time to enjoy the look before drinking, but not much.

Mixmaster wasn't going to say anything so Prowl spoke up for him this time, asking Jazz a simple question. "What do you think?" 

For a moment Jazz couldn't say anything either, he was so transfixed by the colors. "Wowww," he said at last, finally looking up from the tray. "That's amazin'!" Blurr served some fancy cocktails at the bar, but Jazz couldn't say he'd seen anything like this there. "How'd you do it?"

Mixmaster was silent at first, his expression and stance showing surprise at Jazz's interest. "In case you don't already know, different substances burn different colors in heat." The rest of the team had received a variable amount of this information throughout the preparation time so this explanation was mainly for Jazz's benefit. "Energy and heat share a strong positive correlation and energon is simply a plasma - that's a concentration of energy so intense it takes on a partially physical form - so I mixed some powdered metals into the energon then gelled it and stacked the colors for the visual effect. If this tastes as good as it looks then I'll try some really interesting mixes."

"That's really clever, mech." Jazz reached out to lift one of the tiny cubes, a blend of blues and pinks that looked almost like a flower floating in luminescent water. "And it's beautiful." The edges of the 'petals' were slowly bleeding into the 'water', but the shape was still distinct as he turned it to view it from different angles. One side was dissolving slightly faster than the other, causing the originally symmetrical design to take on a lopsided, even more organic appearance.

He set the cube down carefully so as not to disturb it further and picked up the one next to it, the golds and purples stacked much more geometrically. The gold shapes were denser than the more translucent purple and were slowly sinking, drifting down to the bottom of the cube to spread into a layer along the bottom. It looked like a temple collapsing into sand.

Perhaps taking their cue from him, several of the others took up other cubes to look at them more closely as well. Across the table the red-orange light from Long Haul's visor made the red in the cube he had selected glow an even deeper hue as he looked through it; similarly, the blue in the cube Hook was scrutinizing cast purple shadows on the green of his fingers.

"One of these orn you're gonna get tired of hearing me say this," Jazz drawled, raising his cube in salute, "but you do amazin' work."

Mixmaster sort of shrugged in response to the praise. He seemed to give more attention to glancing around the table as everyone else examined his creations and even shared favored ones so others could view too.

They all were fully paying attention when Prowl was the one to speak up. "It certainly is a pleasant hobby to have," he mused before his tone shifted. "And not at all as disruptive as how some mechs spend their free time." The last was angled at Jazz, teasing him about a recent affair with an instrument that had been much louder than he expected when he attempted to test it.

"That was an accident," Jazz said quickly, though his tone wasn't truly defensive. "I fixed the problem and it didn't happen again. Besides, they’re not all bad. You like the flute." That was true - once Jazz had gotten the small instrument to play properly, Prowl had expressed enjoyment at hearing him play it.

"I dunno, I kind of liked the loud thing," Bonecrusher put in, not bothering with the technical name as usual. "Maybe you could have used it on stage."

"Yeah, it would be easy to hear over the crowd!" Scavenger said excitedly.

"Or chased the audience away," Long Haul snickered with a glance at Prowl. "Probably a good thing you did fix it."

"If I ever wanted to play it in the house again I had to fix it, that's for sure!" Jazz laughed. "But I'll have you know I resent the implication that I'm the only one who's disruptive. After all, Mixmaster's the one who -"

"All right, hurry up and drink them before they settle any more," Mixmaster cut him off with a warning look, abruptly changing the subject.

Jazz made a face at him but didn't start up again. He _had_ promised not to tell about the foam incident, after all. Instead, he brought his cube up to his lips and sipped slowly, tasting the subtle play of the different elements on his glossa. By chance he had picked one with a fairly benign profile, but it developed as he continued drinking into a full, rich flavor. "Mmm," he hummed appreciatively. "This one's good."

"This one's really good too," Scavenger added. 

"I'm sure they all are," Hook stated and that was about it on that topic.

The conversation shifted to something else easily enough. There was a fluidity to the chatter that none of them would have ever expected to have with each other. Prowl had acclimated well to the gestalt bond, and while he still had a few details to work on, they were minor and were usually the result of an oversight during his training. The Constructicons only got more and more proud to have him as their new boss and occasionally both their occupation and his benefited.

As for Jazz, well, he had quickly become a fairly regular fixture in their lives as well. First at Prowl's side and then more and more often on his own. He had somehow wormed his way into their life and even without the team link connecting him to them, the smallest mech had a way of gauging a situation almost perfectly in a few moments. Sometimes he even noticed a mood before anyone else. It could only be more interesting when he and the boss eventually bonded. That they would was a given, as far as they were concerned, but the five construction mechs had come to learn that Jazz tended to act slowly on such things. Especially if it seemed obvious to the rest of them, like whether he would move in or not when he was already around so often anyway. He also disliked being questioned repeatedly so they had been forced to let that topic drop for now.

At least they all had plenty more to talk about, allowing dinner to pass quickly despite there being practically thirty small energon cubes set out. They were all finished off though. Then it was time to clear the table but before anyone could get up, Long Haul looked towards Jazz. "You said you had something to tell us?"

Jazz had started to get up to begin clearing the table when Long Haul spoke, reminding him of his earlier intentions. "Yes. Yes I did." He sat back down, looking at his hands for a moment before raising his helm to look around at everyone. "You all know I've been working on the security system in the house."

Bonecrusher snorted. "Hard to miss, we've been tripping over you and your tools for ages."

"Don't interrupt," Hook admonished him. A thread of curiosity and hope spread through their link; if Jazz was talking about the security system and making an announcement, perhaps that meant he'd finally made his decision. Suddenly all of them were a lot more focused on what he had to say.

"Well, you won't be tripping over me any more." Before they could start panicking and thinking that meant that he was leaving, Jazz continued. "I'm done. Everything's finished except for the final calibration, which I went and pulled the components for today...from the system at the apartment." He paused, almost seeming hesitant. "I promised I'd decide about moving in once the security problem was taken care of, and I have. I don't suppose I could get some help with the furniture tomorrow? The couch didn't fit in my subspace."

There were a couple moments of silence as everyone processed that. Prowl was the first to get it, almost immediately, but he just smiled at his mate as he allowed it to dawn on the others. It was obvious when it had because there was a sudden cheer from most of the table. No one was overly loud but it was still a lot of sound and the warning had come too late for Prowl to dial down his sensitivity, causing his sensor wings to twitch a couple times as most of the table tried to speak at once.

"You're really moving in? When? Is it official yet?"

"We can't wait to have you here!"

"That's great. Is tonight your first official night?"

"How much help do you need? Is there a lot to move?"

Jazz laughed as they all crowded around, their enthusiasm flooding the room as their EM fields washed warmly over his plating. "Yeah, I wanna make it official. And I might as well make tonight the first night, since there's next to nothing at my old place already. All I really need help with is a couple big pieces of furniture and a short stack of boxes." He looked over at Prowl, smiling. "I'd lost track of how much I'd already brought over, but you knew, didn't you?"

"You could say so," Prowl replied, smiling brightly back. "Having never gone through everything you own, my best estimate was that you had anywhere between seventy seven and eighty nine percent of your belongings here already. Certainly the entirety of your project collection accounts for half of that figure alone."

"At least," Jazz agreed. "So, I'm guessing there's no objections then?"

"Objections?"

"Are you kidding?"

"As long as we've been trying to get you to-"

"What we mean to say," Hook interrupted, "is that we're glad you made your decision, and you're very welcome here."

"Yeah," Scavenger said, clapping a hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Very much so."

"And we'll be happy to help with the furniture tomorrow," Long Haul promised.

Jazz reached up to place his hand over Scavenger's and reached out with his other to brush Mixmaster's arm. "Thanks. Then tomorrow we get the furniture and I teach you all the security codes you'll need. Sound like a deal?"

All five purple and green mechs nodded in unison and even Prowl found himself nodding along too, half a step behind them. Then he broke from the motion in order to speak. 

"We actually have a surprise for you as well," the Praxian began. He gave a subtle push of reminder through their link that sent Bonecrusher out of the room, since he was closest to the exit. "We've just been waiting for your news to be official before we shared it. Just in case you did decide to change your mind."

"You have what now?" Jazz looked at Prowl first, then at the others, waiting for clarification. "When did you...?"

"Some time ago now," Hook was the one to say. "When the boss determined the probability of you eventually agreeing to move in was high enough to warrant some preparations."

"We hoped he was right and you wouldn't back out, even though that's why we waited." Mixmaster shrugged and moved slightly so Bonecrusher would have a clear path. "Didn't want to pressure you."

"Or scare you off," Scavenger teased, the old joke making Jazz laugh.

"Well if you haven't scared me off yet, you're not likely to now," he pointed out. "So...what is it?" Curiosity buzzed in his EM field and sparkled in his visor.

"It's not exactly anything new," Prowl replied. "In fact, the tradition is actually very old. Older even, than the last time I had to explain these to you."

Prowl had slowed as he finished speaking, pausing occasionally to allow Bonecrusher the chance to move forward with their gift, the wrapped box sitting in his outstretched hands.

Jazz stepped up to take the box from Bonecrusher, then turned to set it on the table to begin unwrapping it. "The last time you explained an old tradition, huh?" His processor was spinning through possibilities rapidly, trying to work out what Prowl was alluding to. "Which one?" Before Prowl could answer, however, the wrapping fell away to reveal a familiar decorative chest.

"Oh!" Jazz's hands stilled over the lid, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. He hadn't seen it since Prowl had taken and returned it to the Constructicons so long ago, but he still remembered it perfectly. "This...this is...you said this was..." 

"And it was," Prowl said, stepping forward to place his hands atop Jazz's in reassurance. "But that tradition came from another, one that fits all of us better. We've built a family here, and the original tradition is well suited for that."

He smiled gently at Jazz. "Praxus and Vos shared many traditions, being so closely related throughout history, but there are distinctions. Vosians trine for instance, while my kind were equally likely to pair off. I'm sure you remember that conversation. Exchanging crystals works wonderfully between two and can be done with three easily enough but there is another way. In Vos, trines are more than simply family units and sometimes one or more members might take interest in another mech or two, and sometimes even a whole trine. How would crystals be exchanged in that situation?"

Prowl allowed Jazz a chance to consider it before sharing the answer. "They aren't."

"Then," Jazz asked, confusion clear on his face, "what did they do with them?" He was sure without even opening the chest that the crystals representing the five Constructicons would still be inside. If this wasn't a bonding proposal, what was it? Not long after Prowl had moved in with the Constructicons, he had spent a day teaching (lecturing, Jazz had called it at the time) him about different types of crystals and the various traditions associated with them - but this hadn't been one of them.

"When bringing together several mechs into one household, crystals are not exchanged so much as displayed. A setting is designed, often by those inviting the others into their home, and everyone places their crystal into it," Prowl explained. "By adding your own crystal, it symbolizes one's willingness to join the family."

Comprehension dawned. "That's beautiful," Jazz said softly. Gently he raised the lid of the chest and looked down at the of crystals that, in a way, had been the start of everything. Ringed in a circle exactly as they had been before were the stones for each member of the team - Hook, Long Haul, Mixmaster, Scavenger, and Bonecrusher. The center of the circle was no longer empty, however; at least, not completely. There were two new incomplete settings waiting there, so close together that Jazz suspected any crystals placed in them would nearly touch one another.

Drawing one hand away from the chest, Jazz reached carefully into his subspace. With everything he'd wedged in there earlier it took a moment to find what he was looking for, but then he had it. The small box he brought out contained a crystal too, one he had chosen for himself at Prowl's prompting that orn so long ago.

His fingers curled over both the small box in his one hand and the edge of the chest beneath the other. "They're meant to go together then. Aren't they?" He wondered - had this been Prowl’s hope for it all along?

"I had intended to go about this according to the more modern tradition," Prowl shared as he too reached into his subspace. "But this does fit our situation better. Especially because this part," and here he waved his free hand slowly over the case of crystals, "has already been done for a while."

"We didn't have any reason or need to tear it apart," Long Haul spoke up. "And when the boss found out, he told us about this idea."

"We were going to completely rearrange the stones then, to make room for yours in the original design," Hook explained before Scavenger picked up the end of it.

"The boss didn't like that idea though."

Prowl took back over here, pulling Jazz's attention back to him. "It seemed more fitting to allow their crystals to remain as they had designed while utilizing the remaining space to fit ours in. Rather like how we've been brought into their lives, albeit under strange circumstances."

Jazz found himself nodding as Prowl explained, and smiled broadly when he finished. "That's a really nice symmetry, yeah. And even if the getting here was a bit strange and unexpected, well...I'm happy we wound up where we did. Here, together, all of us."

He went ahead and opened his box then. The small translucent octahedral crystal resting inside was a cool light violet in color, clear and sparkling. Light refracted through the polished faces as he lifted it out, glancing off the table and the chest as it moved. Jazz angled it to shine on the smaller of the two empty brackets, the one obviously sized for this very stone.

Prowl, likewise, revealed the crystal he'd been keeping. It wasn't the carefully cultivated Praxian crystal he might have had, once, but it was still beautiful. Roughly rectangular in shape, the light blue, semi-transparent crystal was striated with whites and darker blues, giving it an almost cloudy yet simultaneously glittering quality. It was noticeably longer than it was wide, which the waiting bracket had clearly been designed to accommodate.

Jazz hesitated, uncertain. "How's this usually done?" he asked, wanting to honor as much of the tradition as possible since it seemed to mean so much to Prowl.

"We need to be given permission first. Then those heading the household would usually insert their crystals. We are skipping that step because it would be redundant and unnecessary. After that, it's our turn. The order in which we all add our gems doesn't matter so much as it is instinctual. So then, if you're ready..."

At a silent signal from Prowl, Mixmaster moved forward to speak up. "We do wish to include you in our lives."

"Even though you have been for a long time," Scavenger added.

Bonecrusher chastised him silently for the improved words as he spoke. "Our family is stronger with the two of you included."

"And we would graciously accept you," Hook stated.

"Would you do us the honor of joining us?" Long Haul finished off.

The air of formality made the decision to move in feel even more 'official' to Jazz than making his announcement had, but the warmth and welcome of the mechs around him kept it from being frightening. "If you'll have me," he said, doing his best not to ruin the mood even though he didn't know the proper response. "It would make me very happy to join you and be a part of this family."

"We'd be glad to have you," Long Haul answered. "Both of you."

"I am honored for the chance to be included," Prowl said then.

"And we accept you both." Mixmaster was speaking now. "So whenever you are ready..."

Prowl flicked his wings in an affirmative response before looking to Jazz. "Go ahead. Your crystal should slide right in."

Slowly and carefully, Jazz lowered his crystal into the chest and settled it in its place. The bracket latched on to hold it firmly once he had it situated correctly, the weight of the gem triggering the mechanism without any fiddling on Jazz's part. That was convenient since even with his relatively small hands there wasn't a lot of room inside the display. The Constructicons must have used very fine tools to place the new settings without disturbing the other crystals.  
It sparkled brightly among the rest once his hand was clear, like it had always belonged there. Jazz looked at the remaining space beside it, then at Prowl. "Only one thing missing," he said, feeling every pulse of his spark as he waited.

"Exactly," Prowl replied. He then began lowering his own crystal carefully into the setting. It too clicked into place perfectly. Prowl spent a moment staring down at the now complete arrangement and he wore a smile as he looked up to Jazz, and then the others. 

"That makes it official," he stated. "Or at least as official as possible anymore."

There was a moment of silence before Scavenger spoke up. "Time to decide where to display it."

Bonecrusher looked to Jazz. "We decided that you should get to pick where we set it out at."

"It is Prowl's culture and our creation," Hook explained. "So we thought it was only fair that you should choose this."

Jazz nudged the corner of the chest back and forth as he thought, watching the crystals catch the light. "It has to go somewhere we can all see and enjoy it," he said decisively. "Somewhere with good lighting where it will be safe." That eliminated most of the rooms in the house, but one location stood out in Jazz's processor. "I know just the place."

He picked up the chest and left the kitchen with it, the others all trailing after him as he made his way back to the living room. There was an alcove set into the wall near the hall leading to the front door, easily visible from anywhere in the room but out of the way enough that it wouldn't be bumped or disturbed by the regular traffic through the area. The recessed space had originally contained an electrical box for the old security system, but it was empty now since Jazz had rerouted the circuits elsewhere. The plan had been to cover it, but no one had gotten around to it yet - a fact Jazz was glad of now.

"Here," he said, brushing off the shelf and positioning the crystals on it. "Instead of sealing this back up, we clean it up and put in a few recessed lights." He stepped back, bumping into Prowl and Hook before he got very far. He smiled and leaned against them, pleased with the idea. "What do you think?"

"Not a bad place," Long Haul stated.

"Almost looks made for it," Mixmaster muttered.

"Your idea sounds lovely," Prowl told Jazz. Already, his team was sharing thoughts back and forth for lighting options and potential designs. He collected a few that hadn't been rejected outright as he opened a comm line to Jazz so he could share the possible plans.

::They've started thinking on it,:: Prowl shared. There was amusement and cheer in his field, which Jazz couldn't miss being as close as he was. ::Now might be your only chance to influence anything.::

::Guess I shoulda seen that coming,:: Jazz answered Prowl, equally amused, before addressing the group. "Hey, hey, slow down there! You said I get to pick where it goes, so I get a say in how it's decorated. Why don't you each come up with a design, or come up with a couple of options all together, and draw them up so I can take a look in the morning?"

All five green and purple mechs looked surprised at Jazz knowing their thoughts. Then there were a few nudges through the gestalt bond as first one then another realized how he knew, or rather through who. In the few moments it took that to occur, a couple of them also sorted themselves out enough to respond too.

"That is a good idea," Hook agreed. "We'll get right on that."

"You can come help out now if you want?" Scavenger offered, which Long Haul quickly countered. "Unless the two of you want to have some time alone."

"I think I'll let you get your ideas organized without me first," Jazz replied, reaching over to take Prowl's hand. "There's one more thing we need to make official tonight." He squeezed his fingers. "After all - it's really _our_ room now, isn't it?"

Prowl gently squeezed Jazz's hand as Bonecrusher responded. "We'll leave you to that then."

"Have a nice night," Mixmaster added suggestively as they began to file out.

The link began gently buzzing with chatter again and Prowl excused himself out before closing down his end. He turned his full attention to Jazz then. "Well, love. What now?"

"Now?" Jazz smiled and revved his engine playfully. "I wanna celebrate with you. Make tonight...special." His engine settled into a humming frequency that reverberated across Prowl's doorwings teasingly, even as he reached back with one hand to smooth along the edge of the nearer one. "What do you say?"

Prowl's wings fluttered under the dual touch of both hand and sound. As he spoke a reply, the Praxian also pushed his field out to brush against Jazz's frame in a couple places he really liked. It still took a dedicated effort to do so, but it was getting easier and more instinctive. "I think I could be persuaded."

"Mmm, and I love persuadin' you." Jazz shivered, clearly not needing any persuasion himself. "Just like I love you."

"And I love you," Prowl agreed with a smile. It slid into the beginning of a smirk as he added, "but we really should get going before someone realizes they need something and catches us out here. They'd probably think we enjoy the risk of getting caught and want to watch."

Jazz laughed but did not need telling twice and they disappeared into what was truly now their room. It was time to celebrate how far they had come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. It's been a great ride and we sincerely hope all of you enjoyed it even half as much as we did. Thank you ever so much for reading and we hope to have our next project up soon!
> 
> **
> 
> Jazz's crystal is based on a purple spinel, a light, clear, translucent violet octahedral crystal. Spinels have historically been mistaken for other valuable stones (shades of Jazz's undercover work), and it's rare to find large stones. It clarifies thoughts and creative ideas, attracts help and encouragement in difficult tasks, and one source I found said violet specifically is used to avoid being victimized; all things associable with Jazz. 
> 
> Prowl's is a light blue, white striated rectangular crystal, slightly cloudy and semi-translucent based on kyanite, which inspires loyalty and fair treatment, assists with working through disagreements and disputes, and helps with repairing damaged relationships. It's beneficial in negotiations, diplomatic missions, arbitration and other types of communication too, which I thought made it a nice one for Prowl, besides being really pretty (in my opinion ~Rizo).


End file.
